


Towards Eternity, with you

by ULTIOcean



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Allura is a good sister, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Always, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Betrayal, Crying, Denial of Feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Falling In Love, Guilt, Happy Ending, He's an anxious wreck, I'm late yeah, Keith and Shiro are humans, Keith has abandonment issues, Keith's a mess, Lance is a sweet caring friend, Lotor being a little shit, M/M, Magic, Major Character Injury, Major character death - Freeform, Manipulation, MerMay 2018, Merfolk history and customs, Merman Lance, Pre-Canon, Regret, Reincarnation, Reunions, Sadness, Self-Hatred, Set in the medieval era, Shiro is the best brother, The ocean loves it's children, Vomiting, allura is trying her best, alternating between the two, and don't you dare mess with them, it's not on the main tag for a reason, keith pov, klance, lance is oblivious, lance pov, mental manipulation, mermaid allura, relatively slow burn, shallura - Freeform, spells, spoilers from here on out, trust me - Freeform, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2019-05-20 02:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 73,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14885510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ULTIOcean/pseuds/ULTIOcean
Summary: Keith is drowning in his own sorrow, tired of being left behind by those he loves. He's done with fate taking away anything that matters to him. So he's going to do something about it.Even if that something is asking a very morally dubious individual, Earl Lotor, for help.The contract burns in his closed fist, and he doubts his ability to follow through with this, but he feels like he has no choice. He can't bear the idea of losing the only thing that gives some semblance of happiness to his life.He signs the paper, it feels like finality.Lance is tired of the stagnant mer-world, sad that his sister doesn't seem to be doing anything to repair relations between both worlds. He longs for the days long past when humans and mer socialized and there was no fear holding them back.He wants those days to return, and if no one in the godforsaken ocean is willing to do anything about it, he'll do it himself.He takes a trip to the surface without permission, and meets a human with beautiful amethyst eyes.And so it begins.When these two meet, the cogs of fate begin to turn, and the tide of destiny rises with a friendship that brings them both more than they bargained for.





	1. The beginning (The end)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! I'm back with a new, exciting story! :)
> 
> This was supposed to be done for Mermay, but what was supposed to be a 20 pages long one shot about mermaids, somehow turned into a 150 pages long, multi chaptered story that got away from me and developed on it's own.
> 
> Funy thing is, this story had been planed since January, and the only thing i had clear in my mind was the ending, it was beautiful (imo) and it was fleshed out and, like, finished.I only had to think of something to put in between, expand the plot. 
> 
> And then May came, and i saw all the beautiful mermaid art on tumblr, and it was like inspiration kicked me in the face, i had to write it, like, now. No leaving it for later or writing my thoughs, no, i had to sit down and write the actual chapters before the excitement ran off.
> 
> And i did, and this is the result.
> 
> For those that are awaiting RE:Do to be updated, i'm sorry for the delay, but let me tell you something. Once, i neglected writing a story i was really excited to do because i had to work on Re:Do, and i didn't want to be behind schedule or dissapoint my readers.
> 
> And you know what happened? After i updated Re:do i ran to write that story, and all the ideas and excitement and ispiration for it were gone. Completely gone. I couldn't get myself to write more than a few pages and i eventually gave up on it.
> 
> I learnt my lesson. So now, even though i felt really bad for leaving Re:do on standby to work on this (also life gets in the way, time is tight), i didn't want another of my ideas to die before getting written, and i'm actually really happy with how this came out. Hope you guys understand.
> 
> Also, now that this is done, i'm going back to Re:do! Gonna write for it like a woman possesed, i hope you guys don't mind waiting a little more. This fic will update every 2 or 4 days, depends on the comments ( JK it updates every 3 days ), so it'll be finished soon.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it, and feel free to ask anything on the comments! Or just scream, i don't bite ;)
> 
> Thanks to anyone that read, bookmarked, suscribed or commented, you guys are the best and ilu. <3

The shadows seem to slither amongst the walls as he kneels in front of the throne, the figure that sits on it's gold-bathed structure looking down on him -both figuratively and literally-, with a bored look on his face, his blue, yellow-ish eyes boring holes onto his bowed head. It's a gift that the enclosed space isn't big enough for his face to be seen, and he thanks the dim lights for covering his form in dark patches that block his expression, because he's grinding his teeth and frowning so hard his temples are starting to hurt.

He _hates this_. He doesn't want to be here. But he has no choice, never has. That's the story of his life, to never have a say in whatever happens around him as he's left with facing the consequences that come after.

It makes him so _angry_.

He's alone and he's hurting, he's been searching for so long and so hard, he walked to far away lands and god forgotten forests, to demolished villages and high top mountains, to bustling cities and suburbs and black markets that made him feel sick and disgusting.

But, ultimately, it had been for naught. Everytime, he'd come back empty handed and desperate for guidance, for someone to steer his steps and make him feel like he wasn't lost anymore, roaming around like a tormented soul.

He'd needed help, and he'd come to the worst place to get it. But the worry and fear he felt and the thought of losing the only thing that he had in this world, had been enough to guide his steps towards the castle, pride and self preservation instincts be damned.

He doesn't want to do it.

But is he going to? Yes, yes he is.

Because he's miserable and ready to give up, but he's also stubborn and he trusts his instincts to some extent. So, if he has to do some....less than morally acceptable things to achieve his goal, by the goddess he's going to do it.

"I see you find yourself in quite....the predicament." He resists the urge to growl at the other's tone, condescending and utterly uncaring." I understand your situation, and I am willing to offer my _assistance_ in light of such a turn of events. Proven, of course, that you do something for me in return." His fist aches from where he's clenching it too hard, nails digging into his flesh deep enough to draw blood, his self-loathing for having to stoop so low making his blood boil and his chest hurt.

Light steps approach him, and he has to hold back a wince and the impulse to stand up and get into a defensive position, his body thrumming with adrenaline and the need to hide vulnerability away, never be in an unfavourable situation.

A hand appears into his line of vision, a paper clutched in it and dangling in front for him to take, which he does, looking from behind his lashes at the woman that hands it to him. She's tall and lithe, with fire-red hair that cascades down her back and falls below her knees, ribbons of different colors adorning her sides and armor clinking as she walks back to stand besides the throne.

She twirls around before pinning him with a harsh look, her blue eyes unforgiving.

"This document has all the information you need to fulfill the request Lord Lotor asks of you. Think of it as a contract, of sorts. If you agree with our terms, sign one of the copies and hand it back to us. When you complete this quest and achieve the objective proposed to you, Lord Lotor will use his power and any means at his disposal to grant your wish." Finishing her speech, the woman stands proud and tall besides her lord, stance that of a trained soldier and eyes cold as ice, never once straying from his kneeling form.

Lotor, for his part, gifts the woman with a pleased smile and a nod of his head before speaking, his voice as shrill and venomous as always.

"Yes, thank you for such a thorough explanation, Ezor." She bows once before returning to her previous position, a confident ' _Of course, my lord_ ' leaving her lips before she stands guard once more. Meanwhile, Lotor glances back at him, his bored façade falling apart to reveal an amused smirk, fangs peeking from his open mouth and fingers tapping his knee, looking quite entertained, like this is but a show to occupy his time with.

"Well then, please do take a look at the document and give me your answer. I expect nothing but an affirmative, but you're always allowed to refuse." He has the gall to laugh at him, and he feels his insides churn and freeze at the sound, wanting nothing more than to flee and vanquish this meeting from his mind. But he cannot do that, he's near his breaking point, and if he doesn't do this, he will feel like he failed _him_ , after everything _he_ did when they were younger and all throughout the years after, he owes _him_.

God, he can't even bring himself to say _his_ name. It hurts too much.

Begrudgingly, he glances at the piece of paper slightly crumpled onto his hand, smoothing it's surface before beginning to read, his face twisting more and more as he reads every single word, every phrase and paragraph, swallowing down the need to vomit and shudder.

It's not as bad as he expected, but it still makes him sick to his stomach that he's going to have to do this. Because he undeniably will, he feels trapped and with no other way out, lost and tired and willing to do anything at this point just to feel the warmth he'd lost once again.

He shakes and his bones rattle below his flesh, heartbeat feeling like a countdown to the worst decision he's ever made in all his eighteen years of life. He breathes and tries to battle the righteous piece of his mind that tells him this is _bad_ , immoral and dirty, and that he should just turn his back on everything that Lotor has ever touched, lest he gets tainted and corrupted like everything else.

It sounds suspiciously like Piros, his bonded spirit.

But it is too late, he's already made his decision, he's corrupted to the bone, weakness and anguish making him take the easy way out. He just wants to feel whole again, to smile and hold and be held back in return, to bask in the sense of family that make his job and all the troubles they face be worth it.

"I am a busy man, you know. I would appreciate if you gave me your answer now, before I change my mind." He looks up and glares, inner turmoil forgotten, insecurity and guilt brushed aside and buried deep within his throbbing heart in pos of answering the man looming over him.

"You already know my answer. I accept, as long as you fulfill your end of the contract." A wicked smile takes over the Lord's face, stretching wide and making him look demonic, his stance showing that he's delighted at his favourable response.

Ezor approaches him with a quill and waits until he's signed both pieces of paper, and he feels like he's just sealed his fate in ways that he cannot comprehend, his breath stopping momentarily as he swipes the quill and curls the line of the _'h'_ at the end. The soldier takes one of the documents and gives it to Lotor, completely calm and collected, like this is just another transaction like the ones they do on a daily basis and not something completely unethical and twisted.

He gulps and tries to drown the shame slowly overtaking his mind.

Lotor's eyes crinkle and he humms in approval, looking down at him with such contempt and glee that it makes time stretch until he's sure he's going to wither and die before he's even exited this room. The lord stands up and walks down the steps that lead to ground level, standing tall and haughty before him, cape willowing from behind and crown glinting almost maliciously in the purple lighting draping his form.

"It was a pleasure making business with you, Kogane. I hope to hear a positive report from you soon." Keith nods and clenches his eyes to stop the traitorous tears from falling. And as soon as he's given a sign that he can stand up and leave, he does just so, running as fast as his legs will carry him, and telling himself that the moisture on his cheeks is from the rain pouring from the skies, and not the regret of the choice he's just made.

\--

Twirling around admist the corals, he huffs in annoyance, pursing his lips into a pout that he knows nobody is inmune to, except his sister Allura, that is. He's asked her for the umpteenth time to let him go to the surface, explore a little and come back, no harm no foul.

But as always, she gave him the ' _It's too dangerous'_ talk, and prohibited him from going past the reef barrier that separates their kingdom from the outskirts and eventually leads to human dwellings. He's just so _bored_ , so tired of everything being so stagnant around him. There's _nothing_ to do here, no one to spend his time with. His sister is always busy with teaching the younglings, and Hunk and Katie are gone most of the time, building their new home on the far end of their small village.

And he, meanwhile, has to find ways to occupy his time. _Alone_ , with only his brain to keep him company. It was bound to happen that some crazy and debatable harm-free ideas came to be, and it's not like he hasn't thought about it before, going to the surface.

Humans actually know they exist, that mermans and mermaids litter the expanse of the ocean in small towns or villages with a small population. But they usually do not interact unless one of the two parties need something, like knowing the state of the ocean waters -in the human's case- or needing environmental help and supplies in times of famine -in the merfolk's case-.

But even with their truce active and both species coexisting peacefully, tensions always remain high. As some humans, for stupid reasons, try to hunt his kind and do unmentionable things to them, torturing their bodies and hurting them beyond belief until they wither and die, unable to survive long outside of the waters unless they shift to their humanoid form.

Which they never do once taken by force, choosing to die quick as a merfolk to escape the clutches of their captors, as there is no known way of stopping their deterioration.

They aren't all bad, of course, there are some humans that work hard to fight off those evil ones, putting and end to their wicked acts and sending them to prison for the rest of their lives. The diplomatic envoys he's met, for one, have always been kind and understanding, explaining to him whatever he asked and smiling kindly when he spoke of the beauty of the jellyfish mating ritual, or the way the corals' spores painted their homes in all the colors of the rainbow when spring came.

He actually misses them, a lot. Shay was kind and sweet and loved to talk about minerals and the flora and fauna on both sides, always eager to teach and learn. And Coran reminded him of an uncle, always sweet and funny, making him laugh while he shared with him _'Wrong facts that humans think are true about merfolk'_ , which were hilarious, to be honest.

And, in return for their kindness, he told them about their magic, spirits, and how the latters could become _familiars_ and bond with a creature, whether human or mermaid, and spend the rest of their lives aiding them and helping in tasks, fights, or anything that didn't breach their contract promise, the thing that bound them together.

Nowadays, though, only a handful of people have the gift to interact with spirits and form a pact, what with magic dwindling as the bloodlines dilute with the passing of generations. But merfolk don't have to worry about that, they _are_ magic, their kin can contact the spirits without trouble.

Just this morning, he'd been playing with Sinine, a water spirit that seems to like him for no apparent reason. They had fun and raced each other, then looked for cool shells or rocks that he could later make into jewels, took a nap and braided his hair. And he'd enjoyed it, he really did, but he missed the humans. And not only Shay and Coran, but Nyma, Thace, Ozar and the others.

He'd really looked forward to their visits, and he's sad that it's been so long since they came last.

In short, he's bored, lonely, and ready to do something stupid even as he hears his sister's voice chastising him in the back of his mind, always stern but loving, repeating to him the same thing she'd said earlier today, when he'd asked for the third time.

_'Lance, the situation is really unstable right now, we are not allowed to go to the surface until everything stabilizes, it's dangerous. And until those...hunters are taken care of, we can't be reckless. Please be patient.'_

But is he going to listen to her? Nope. He has his knife with him, and his fangs are more than enough to tear apart anyone that dares come closer without his permission. So he grips his purse tight, and with a flick of his tail propels himself towards the edge of Altea, leaving homes and caves behind with excitement thrumming loud in his veins.

It barely takes him a minute to get close to shore, and he's delighted to see that the sun is just setting, a perfect chance to watch it bath the ocean in oranges and pinks while he sits across some rock or whatever. He's just swimming around looking for a good place, when he spots someone curled on one of the slippery pieces of rock far away from the shore, where the waves crash and pass over, making it a dangerous place to be sitting on.

The person -a human, he notes- has his knees up and is hiding his face into his hands, curled into a ball that screams sorrow and distress, not even moving when a small wave laps over the slab of rock and wets it's feet and pants.

From this distance, he can't really see anything but a smidge of dark hair and red garments, but seeing their hunched up form and the pitiful sounds emanating from their lips, he feels compelled to approach. It's in his nature to nurture and care for, to watch over and offer affection and comfort to those in pain -although it has never happened with someone not of his own kin- and he quickly stops thinking about the consequences if that means he can make this unhappy human stop crying.

He dips below the surface, leaving only his long hair lightly surfacing, and swims close to where the other dwells, thinking of something to say, something smart or surprising that can startle the human and make him stop hiding. But as he nears and rises his head, the first thing that comes out of his mouth is that stupid pick-up line that Human Rolo had taught him some time ago.

"You come here often?" And, well, mission accomplished, he supposes. He does manage to startle the human, enough to make him slip and nearly fall into the sea, his hands braced on each side of his body with one leg twisted uncomfortably and the other half dipped into the ocean, head thrown backwards.

And he can't help it, really.

He laughs, and it comes from deep in his belly, honest and loud as it shrouds him with a sense of freedom and joy he hasn't experienced since his father died. Like a ray of light that banishes dark clouds, his body feels light and his mind stops it's overthinking, tail swishing from side to side like he is a youngling once more.

\--

The laugh that booms from the merman before him sounds like chiming bells, and he feels himself melting just by listening to it. It's loud, but not shrill, and the tempo of it is soft and the pitch high like the melody of a recently tuned violin, balanced and breathy and.... _otherwordly_.

He looks at the merman while he tries to right himself and not slip on the rock, since, contrary to what one would think, he really doesn't want to get wet. Or, at least, not anymore than he already is, anyway.

Trying to tuck both his legs back in, he takes on the features of the creature still laughing at his misery, toothy smile stretching from side to side and showing his impressive set of fangs.

It has -from what Keith can see- long, flowing brown hair that turns slightly blue at the tips, blending with the colors of the ocean and making it hard to see. Said color shows itself on the scales on his cheeks, shoulders, hands and - _are those claws_ \- the point below his navel where warm, brown skin turns into teal, cyan and indigo in a swirl of scales that he cannot see much of.

He finally sits cross-legged and tries to calm his racing heart and the pounding on his head, hands sweaty and skin clammy as he gazes at the being; the jewelry it wears, the tatoo like swirls on his forearms and chest, the gills on it's neck, the V like mark on his forehead and-

Their eyes meet.

And the myriad of blue hues he sees in them takes his breath away, all the tones in existence mixing together to form a small ocean trapped in his irises that he feels he could drown in.

It smiles at him, and Keith feels his heart freezing over, and clenches his eyes shut to try and gulp the nausea back down, chest heaving with the swallow breaths he's taking. His sorry state seems to alarm the creature, though, as it comes closer than before with a slight furrow of his brows, concern etched onto it's youthful face.

"Are you okay?" His voice is as sweet as his laugh, and the honesty in it makes everything even worse. He digs the heels of his hands onto his eyes and prays to the goddess that he doesn't have a breakdown, it's not the appropriate moment.

It never will, in his opinion.

" Yeah, just....having a bad day." That's an understandment, and the doubt at his claim seems to be mirrored in the merman's own features, a pout making his face look childish as he swims even nearer, resting his crossed arms onto the rock as he moves his tail back and forth like an excited puppy.

"I can see that. Want to talk about it?" He feels ridiculous in this situation, with a complete stranger asking him if he wants to talk about his feelings, which, he doesn't, _thanks_. He's just trying to make sense of the situation, understand why this merman is here talking to him like it's nothing special, like it's just two people crossing paths and greeting each other.

The nonchalance of this encounter is honestly baffling to him, and he gapes for a while before he decides to ask just why this merman decided it was a good idea to approach a human with such disregard for his own safety. Knowing better than anyone just how the situation between humans and merfolk is right now, walking on the tight-rope.

"What....what are you doing here?" The merman tilts his head, confused, letting out a chirp that runs him trough the heart. "I mean...why did you come talk to _me_? I could hurt you, you know, I could be _evil_." The merman chuckles and shakes his head, opening his mouth wide and showing even more fangs, making Keith gulp at the sight.

He then proceeds to take a knife that seems made of stone -but looks really sharp, too- and plays with it with astounding ease, throwing it around and twirling it, catching the blade by the tip and doing maneuvers that he knows may have taken him years of continued practice to master.

"I'm not defenceless, you know. I could take you out with one bite, and I'm skilled with a knife. Also, a merman is unbeatable in water, just so you know. So as long as I'm in _here_ -he points downwards to the sea- and you're up _there_ -he points to the rock- I'm safe. And if you fell, well....." The merman smirks and narrows his eyes, looking at him through his blue tinted lashes. "...you'd be the one in trouble, then." A shudder runs through his body and he rubs his arms in an attempt to mask the shiver that rattles his bones.

"I see. That's....nice to know." The merman laughs again, this time a short giggle that echoes in his ears, and Keith feels like the floor has been pulled from under him, the heavy weight inside his gut growing with every passing second. He resists the urge to vomit and turns towards the merman as he speaks, noticing just now that he'd averted his gaze from the innocent and honest eyes boring into his.

 _Coward_.

"You asked my reason to approach you, right?" He nods at the other, hands tightening around his ankles as he clutches his pants, fidgeting with one of the holes there.

" Well, that's an easy one. The figure of you curled up and crying - _I was not!_ \- trembling like a scared guppy, so small and vulnerable and sad, made me want to say something stupid to make you smile, or distract you from the pain for awhile, at least." He stills, trying to remember if he'd looked as pathetic as the merman is saying. But he finds that he can't, crushed as he'd been under the pressure of the fate he choose and the weight of what he needed to do to be happy again.

"That's....nice of you." This time, the merman rises an eyebrow, looking amused and on the verge of laughing once more.

"You're not much of a talker, are you?" He growls at the merman, feeling offended although he says nothing but the truth. "Hey, no need to get antsy, it's totally fine. I can talk for the both of us, so no worries. Let's introduce ourselves first, yeah?" The creature rises his arm from the water, sharp blue nails glinting in the light of the setting sun as he outstretches his hand towards him, searching for his own.

The merman grips his bare hand with a gentleness he isn't used to, interlocking their fingers tight instead of doing the usual handshake, which _is totally a human thing that a merfolk would probably know nothing about_. The merman leans his head forward and nears their joined hands, proceeding to touch Keith's to his forehead, eyes closed, then bringing them down to drop a slight kiss on the back of his hand.

He's paralyzed, for a moment, and he feels like he's going to cry all over again from such tenderness, the burden on his shoulders threatening to bring him down and drown him in his own misery, the one he cursed himself with.

The creature opens his eyes and smiles at him, never letting go of his hand. "My name is Landreth, but everyone calls me Lance, nice to meet you." The back of his hand burns where the cre-...where Lance has kissed it, and he takes in a deep, shuddering breath, telling himself that _he can do this_ , that _it's okay_ , that he's brave and owes it to _him_ and he would rather face his disappointment for the rest of his life if that means he's by his side.

"I'm....Keith. Nice to meet you too." The beaming smile he receives in return is as blinding and warm as the setting sun on their backs. And, as it hides completely behind the horizon and the stars begin to emerge, the land shrouds in darkness, and he, too, feels like a shadow of what he once was, the same inky black of the night coating his corrupted heart, leaving nothing to be seen but the proof of his sin.

\--

He can't help but beam and smile as the human- Keith, introduces himself, looking awkward and uncomfortable, but never making any move to leave, just averting his gaze and peeking at their joined hands from time to time. Were his own too cold? Maybe slimy? He didn't touch any algae today so it shouldn't be disgusting or anything....

 _Ah_.

He totally forgot.

Different cultures mean different customs, so of course Keith is going to be weirded out by his greeting, he'd heard that humans are kind of uptight with touch and their personal space being invaded without permission. He should have asked first, but he's used to cuddle around his friends when he is sleepy and nuzzle his face into Katie's locks when he needs affection, merfolk are creatures that thrive on physical contact, and he did their usual greeting without giving much thought to it.

Maybe he should apologize.

He looks up and focuses -without meaning to- on Keith's eyes, wich are a mixture of navy and amethyst, a wonderful combination that makes them sparkle with the faint light of the full moon. He's mesmerized by them, curious and eager to know more about the race that inhabits the lands, about their cities and flora and everything they create and own.

His sister always tells him that his hunger for knowledge will be his downfall one day, but he thinks it's important to know the ones you're coexisting with to be able to achieve understanding and peace. He believes the rift between them can be erased through talk and interaction, and is of the opinion that hiding and waiting for things to sort themselves out won't help _anything_.

Allura says she understands, but that security measures need to be applied, and until the envoys of the humans can guarantee that no more meaningless sacrifices are going to be made, the merfolk will remain under the surface, where no human can possibly hurt them.

But of course he's never been one to follow the rules, so.

He smiles softly at Keith and lets go of his hand, sheepishly rubbing the scales on his wrist as he readies an apology. "I'm sorry if that startled you, Keith." The human shivers, and he thinks it might be because the soft night breeze of the beach is too cold for his body. But being a cold blooded creature himself, he has no way of sharing warmth with his new friend, no matter what his instincts scream at him, so he settles for continue to talk as he raises his tail so it blocks some of the winds assaulting the other.

"It's just the usual greeting for merfolk, I didn't remember until now that human greetings are different, I hope you don't mind." Keith's eyes go back and forth between his hand and Lance's, but he makes no move to leave or wipe his hand in disgust, so he believes he hasn't offended him, wich is good news.

"It's fine, it just....surprised me. We usually do a handshake at best, or a hug or something if we're...related or close." He hums, noticing the downcast expression that takes over Keith's features, like a storm passing by quick and leaving nothing but destruction and sorrow in it's wake.

He decides that he doesn't like that emotion painted in Keith's pale features, and strives to do what he does best ; talk. And do enough of it that it distracts his new friend from whatever pain he might be experiencing, hoping to steal a smile out of him before he eventually has to leave.

"Can you teach me?" Keith wipes his head up to face him, confused, and he raises his scaly hand and waves it around to gain his attention. "I mean, this handshake you speak of. I really like to learn about human customs and traditions, and since I introduced myself in my kind's way, I would like to learn yours, too. If that's okay with you." The other shapes his mouth in an _'o_ ', seeming to understand what he wants and pondering over it for a few seconds before he nods, extending his hand towards him, slowly.

"Oh, it's really easy, no special meaning or anything. We just - Keith takes hold of his cold, wet hand and squeezes softly- hold hands like this in a tight grip, firm, but not bruising, then wave it slightly up and down twice, and let go. It's both formal and informal, and the most common in between humans." Keith's hand lets go, and he stares at his own, giddy at having learnt something new about their land-brothers, and happy that Keith is kind and willing enough to teach him, the phantom feeling of his smooth, fair skin still remaining after he let go.

He chirps, not able to hold it back, and leans in even closer to the stone that Keith is sitting on. " Thank you, Keith. Now that we're not strangers anymore...." He smiles, wide and probably showing all his teeth. "...wanna tell me what has you so anguished?" Keith mutters a _'It's nothing, really'_ in response to his gratitude and then falls extremely quiet, worrying Lance that he may have gone too far, pried too much.

And he's suddenly scared that the human will leave, that he won't be able to talk to him anymore and the loneliness will take hold of his heart once more, leaving him colder than the depths his kind usually inhabit.

But to his utter relief, Keith just sighs, sporting a sad smile as he plays with the hem of his jacket, which is tinted with the colors of the sunset. "Well, I suppose there's no harm in telling you. I....I recently lost someone I held very, very dear. I'm angry and sad all the time, and I feel powerless since I can't do anything on my own, like....like I'm _useless_." He sees the sorrow and pain in Keith's moonlit eyes, his own allowing him to see clearly even in the darkness that baths the small creek in nothing but shadows.

What he sees is _loss_.

Something he's familiar with. He had lost his father when he was but a child to the hands of some Jägers -the term the humans use to refer those than hunt merfolk- leaving Allura to take care of him, even though she was but a young adult back then.

That's one of the main reasons why he tries to be independent and self-sufficient, so he can take part of the burden that his sister carries and let her enjoy her life to the fullest, making up for the years she had to spend taking care of him, instead of finding a mate and creating a family.

He hopes that she's doing that, now that she's free, and if the flowers on her bedside and on her hair are any indication, he's pretty sure that she is. And it brings him nothing but joy to know that his sister is happy and ready to widen their small family with her own younglings, and hopes that she will introduce him soon to the one that has stolen her heart.

He needs to make it clear that no one breaks his sister's heart, not on his watch.

And if he has anything to say about it, neither will he allow Keith's own to break, whatever the motives are, whether is grief, mourning, anger or something else, no one should have to go through it alone, and he's willing to try his best to cheer up his new friend.

He can't help it, his caring nature compels him to.

He wants to.

So he leans his head softly on Keith's tight and closes his eyes, hearing the small hitch of breath above him, moving his tail back and forth in the water and creating ripples that make a soothing melody for Keith's ears only.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Keith. I know how hard it is, when you lose someone you love, but sadness will not last forever, grief will not hold you down undefined. The sun will rise strong to light another day, and so will you." He hears a whispered gasp, and unconsciously, his own hand searches for Keith's, and when he finds it, he intertwines their fingers once more and squeezes.

He ignores the tremors that shake his friend's frame and the muffled whimpers that leave his lips, and focuses instead on the lullaby that bathes the place, and playing tones that soothe the soul and warm the heart, praying for Keith's pained heart.

He feels a small, fleeting squeeze on his own fingers, and he smiles.

\--

He tries really hard not to cry, but it's almost impossible when Lance's words -so honest and innocent and filled with affection- cut through his chest like a razor sharp dagger, emptying his lungs and forcing him to gasp like a strangled animal.

He feels like he can't breath, just like when Lance had said his name a few minutes ago, prompting a shiver to run down his spine with the way he'd said it, with a slight _'s'_ noise at the end that made it sound more like _Keiss_ instead of Keith.

He feels like he's drowning again, and wonders if that may not have been for the best, with how things are going. He feels dirty, like the scum on the earth, like he shouldn't even be allowed to touch Lance, least alone listen to his sweet melodies and magical voice.

And he feels guilty, so, so guilty. Because Lance's words have unraveled something in him, and a weight that he didn't even notice was crushing him down has been lifted, and he feels comforted for the first time in nearly half a year, and he _hates it,_ hates himself.

But he can't help but squeeze his hand back, marveling at the claws that could tear him apart but hold him tenderly instead, with a softness and warmth that disarms him, the contact being something that he's longed for but could never hope to find.

Reassurance, comfort, the feeling that everything is going to be okay, the lullaby like song making his mind drift and his body relax.

But the guilt never leaves. It never does. It never will.

And, eventually, he pries himself out of the calming hold, out of the small world Lance has built for both of them, and stands up, looking down at Lance and watching his curious eyes lit up with wonder and nothing more than curiosity and excitement. His eyes are honest and hide nothing, bearing his emotions for the world to see, and he feels the need to close his, fearful of what the other may see in his own twisted, corrupted ones.

"I-....I need to leave, go- -he gulps- go back home, you know." A sad chirp and a whistle are his only answer, and he watches as Lance pouts, dipping his chin under the surface and blowing bubbles, his tail going left and right like he's displeased with the situation.

"Awwww, so soon? But we've just met, I wanted to talk to you more." The pout is full on out now, and it makes him want to withdraw his previous statement, to stay and please the merman until he's satisfied.

But he can't do that, he has plans to make, things to think about, he needs-....he needs to make sure everything is falling into place, that he makes no mistakes. He cannot afford to fail.

"I'm sorry, but it's night already, and I've had a _really_ bad day, I need to sleep." Lance rises a bit from below the calm waters, eyes going wide as he seems to remember something.

" _Ohhh_ , that's right. You humans need at least eight hours of sleep to function, right? Shay told me, a long time ago, I forgot. We merfolk are also nocturnal creatures, and we only need about four hours or so to go on, so it didn't dawn on me that you might be tired. Sorry." He shakes his head in dismissal, and tries to look anywhere but at the merman floating close by, his resolve threatening to dwindle as the seconds tick by.

"Don't worry about it. It's just really late now, so I'm going to go." He turns around to take the short walk back, but his foot meets nothing but water and he stumbles back, balancing precariously on his heels and trying hard not to fall.

The small path that he'd taken before seems to have been covered by the tide, wich has risen with the full moon, thus blocking his way back and leaving him stranded.

Great.

"What is it, Keith?" He turns and watches as Lance tilts his head, waiting. He hesitates but a second before voicing his problem, knowing that he has no choice and hating every bit of it. He hates feeling trapped, with no way out, with only one path to follow that someone has designated for him, never asking for his opinion, never being given an option.

"It's just...the tide has risen, and the path I took is gone. It's too dark for me to see, and the water's too deep. If I fall....I'll probably drown since I won't be able to orient myself." A hum echoes around him, and Lance swims around the slab of rock to watch the path he was talking about, jewelry gleaming a bright blue as he whistles.

"I heard that humans don't do very well in water, but this is _ridiculous_. The path is really short, I mean, I can see the shore from over here and it isn't really that deep..." Keith whines before he can stop himself, not being a water person himself and refusing to admit that he cannot swim for the life of him. Nobody needs to know that.

Lance takes his noise as distress, and waves his hands around, frantic and apologetic, brow furrowed as he tries to fix the problem. "I mean, not that there is _anything_ wrong with that, you know. If I couldn't breathe under water I would probably be freaked out too, you know. It's fine, it's totally fine, you can't see in the dark either so it's _completely_ understandable." He bites back the urge to laugh at Lance's fretting, but when a cold gust of wind washes over him and he hides his hands in his pockets, his fingers brush paper and he stills.

It's like getting a reality check, like iced rain drenching him whole and reminding him of what he'd done, leaving him numb and frozen, static filling his mind and ants crawling on his skin. And he feels like all the joy and warmth Lance has shared with him is gone, swallowed by the ink staining his fingers and the shadow of his name littering the end of the page.

He bits his lip, looks at Lance, and crumples the paper so hard he's afraid he's going to rip it.

But he doesn't. He _can't_.

"I'll help you, okay? Don't worry, the stones you used to get over here are still under the surface, only, you can't see them. So I'll help you do that." Lance swims forward, taking some of the gems in his hair and then diving under and going back up, repeating the motion countless times until he's so far away that Keith thinks he's abandoned him.

It seems to take an eternity, but eventually, Lance comes back, smiling and beaming.

"Okay, now just watch, you'll be amazed." Lance closes his eyes and mutters a chant, hands raised in the air as everything around them seems to still and sounds cease for a second, the world freezing before moving once more.

And then he sees it.

Small blue lights lit up the water like stepping stones, shining bright under the surface, glittering with pinpricks of light that make it look like starlight. The shine bathes the ocean with it's colors and everything looks ethereal, like out of a dream, the gemstones uniting with each other with a ray of light that creates a constellation, guiding his way.

It's breathtaking and beautiful, and he's mesmerized by it like in a trance, unaware of anything else happening around him.

"Well, you can go now, Keith. I'll follow you just to be sure you don't fall in, okay?" He barely registers that he nods at Lance, his eyes fixated on the shimmering blue path that he has to follow. He doesn't dare take his eyes away from it, doesn't let his gaze wander, because he knows that, if he does, if he takes a look at Lance, his self-hate will devour him, doubt will consume him, and he doesn't have the luxury of allowing himself to waver.

So he takes one step forward, and then another and another one after, and it feels like he's leaving everything that makes him human behind, like he's abandoning all he's been taught, all the values and morals and life lessons that meant the world to him.

And when the path ends and his feet land on solid ground, it feels like his heart has rusted and his chest has hardened like a rock, and an unforgiving sense of no return cradles his mind and whispers finality and resolution. And he knows, without a doubt, that his fate is sealed and there's no salvation waiting for him.

But even then, he can't find it in himself to completely regret it. He's selfish, he's a coward, and he will astray from the right way a thousand times over, as long as it means he gets to return to his everyday life.

"I suppose this is goodbye, then." He looks at Lance from the corner of his eye as the merman speaks, chilled to the bone for reasons that have nothing to do with the cold." I'll...see you around?" He sounds hopeful, and what can Keith do, but tell him yes?.

"Yeah, I live nearby, so I'm sure we'll meet again." He tries to smile, but it comes out more like a grimace and a bittersweet frown, and he's quick to turn his back on the beautiful scenery he's been privy to, waving his hand as he goes, unable to turn back, unable to face those eyes free of sin or malice for one last time.

"Bye, Keith!! See you soon!" He walks away with the echo of Lance's joyful voice following him, and his nails dig into his palm with the force of the grip he has on the contract, that, for some reason, hasn't torn up yet.

His steps have never felt as heavy as they did in that moment, and the only proof of his pain is the small trail of blood he leaves behind, coming from the hole he's bit trough his lip as he is smothered by frustration and bitterness.

He wonders what _he_ would say if he saw Keith now.

He's scared to find out.

* * *

 

Lance swims around in a lazy manner, dodging the jellyfish and coral trees that appear in his way, watching the crystal flowers shine as the morning light filters through the surface and reflects on their petals, brightening the area around him, but not his mood. 

Today marks the fourteenth cycle since the last time he saw Keith, and he cannot help but long to see his newly gained friend once more. He knows they had never agreed to anything, not a place or date or anything of the sort, but he can't help but hope that Keith had come back to look for him to the small creek in which they met.

He's been going there every few days, after making sure his sister wasn't onto him and he wouldn't be missed if he went away for a few hours. It's been hard not to talk about his small adventure to his friends, his excitement threatening to overflow and spill from his lips, making him babble everything.

But he knows better than to let them know about his _'dangerous'_ visits to the surface, least of all his meeting with Keith and their interactions. Because he knows Allura would never allow it, never approve of it, she would worry and ban him from ever leaving home, even going as far as using magic to prevent him from doing so.

And the sole thought is enough to freeze his lungs and stop his heart. He can't stand to be still, stagnant, doing _nothing_. He needs to move, needs to _act_ , feel like he's being useful and working to narrow the gap that tears apart the two species, make them understand so they can all coexist in peace like they did when Allura was but a youngling.

It also doesn't help that he's kind of lonely and overly bored, emotions that only make him rush into situations without much thought or precaution.

Which is why he swims towards the beach once more, praying that he will find Keith there today, bag held tight as he travels within the current that leads closer to the shore, letting himself drift admist the fishes as he awaits reaching his destination.

It takes barely no time at all, and he leaves the stream with a flick of his tail, propelling himself right to the surface, mindful of not breaking through it until he's sure no humans are near. He won't show himself to anyone that is not Keith, not now, at least.

He rises his head and peeks at the distant sands of the coast, trying to spot a speck of black and red, and sighing in disappointment when he doesn't find one. Another failure, another cycle that he won't get to meet with his newest friend, another cycle that he will spend alone and wandering the village like a lost soul.

He's beginning to think that they won't ever see each other again, and the idea pains him greatly, as stupid as it sounds. He knows he shouldn't have gotten so attached to someone he'd just met, but he can't help it for a myriad of reasons, some of which make no sense but are a part of his core, his being, part of who he is.

Merfolk are drawn to _beauty_ , that's an undeniable fact, and he sees so much of it in Keith that it's overwhelming. It makes his instincts go haywire and beckons him to cherish every little move he makes, every word out of his lips and each flutter of his eyes.

Merfolk are also curious by nature, always seeking knowledge and evolution, striving to learn more about the world that surrounds them and every creature that shares the same earth. It's a trait that all merfolk have, albeit it differs in intensity depending on who you're speaking with.

Allura insists that his levels are out of the charts, and that that is wonderful as well as frightening, because it means that some day, he will obtain knowledge he _really_ doesn't want to know, and he won't be able to forget it. It will forever weight him down, and she fears the stress will be too much and he will grow to be devoid of all kinds of joy.

Thankfully, though, that has never happened still, and he's more determined than ever to do his best and discover a way to alleviate tensions between both sides.

And the first step to do that is learn about their culture and behavior an go from there, but he can't do that alone, he needs help from a dweller of the surface, from his friend.

He sweeps his eyes over the coastline once more, uttering a dejected chirp, and is about to leave when a small sound, fleeting and soft, reaches his ears. The chord reverberates in the stillness that surrounds him at this time of day, when the ocean stills and the creatures sleep, leaving a clear and calm surface that reflects everything from above.

The noise seems akin to the chime of a bell, high, melodic and sweet, similar to the sound the xylophones back home make, piercing and delicate at the same time. It sounds far away, coming from a distance, but his sharp hearing lets him listen to it with perfect clarity, it's sound mesmerizing, beckoning and alluring, prompting him to move without conscious thought.

He swims away from the beach and around the cliffs that surround the area, following the dulcet trail that the sound leaves behind, audible even under the surface. He doesn't know _why_ he follows it, why he feels compelled to do so -although merfolk have a deep love for tunes and melodies too- but it's like he's bathed in warmth, like it drips from his ears and softens him inside out, leaving him pliant and content.

He does a twirl under a small tunnel carved in the rocks, and whines when he notices that the sound rings louder and louder as he continues onward, it's melow notes comforting and pleasant. It reminds him of his mom's hugs and the cuddles he gets from Allura, the way Katie nuzzles onto his side when she's stressed and how Hunk runs his fingers through his hair as he sings for him, his tone of voice warm like nectar and just as sweet.

He curls his tail slightly around himself and listens for any warning sounds, or threats of an unwanted presence, and, when he finds none, he breaks through the surface a good distance away from the coast, trying to focus on the noise and find out where it's coming from.

And when he does, his mouth opens but no sound cames out, and his eyes widen in what he's sure is a comical way, hands clutching at his chest, right above his heart, as his eyes settle on the figure walking slowly through the edge of the small creek he's found himself in.

It's Keith.

Dressed in nothing but a black piece of cloth and pants, the red jacket he wore before hanging from his waist, like a beacon, making him visible even when he's so far away. He has a faraway look in his eyes and his mouth is upturned, brows pinched as he seems lost in thought. There's a small, round crystal bell dangling from his neck, shining bright silver as the sun's rays run through it, reflecting colors like a kaleidoscope that has his hands itching to touch it.

But that's not a priority right now. He can't believe his luck, that he would find Keith like this, thanks to the elusive symphony of a small object and his sharp, enhanced hearing. It feels predestined. It feels like _fate_.

He beams and rises from his position under the surface, ready to yell and draw Keith's attention, but he turns around in that same moment, and their eyes meet. His friend waves awkwardly at him, bare feet buried in the sand and hair tied up in a small ponitail, which really accentuates his cheekbones and brings out features that Lance admires without shame.

He wastes no time in diving through the water as fast as he can -which, admittedly, is quite fast- and within a few seconds, he's leaning forward on a rocky, moss-covered slope, looking up at Keith and smiling at him. He takes in the other's rosy cheeks -his fair skin being warmed by the sun- and the faint freckles that dust the bridge of his nose, cheeks and shoulders, his eyes sweeping over his collarbone and arms as he notices the faint shadows of old scars.

The curious part of him wants to ask, while the most sensible one informs him it's a bad idea, intrusive and rude. The fluffy, squishy one just wants to indulge into admiring his friend's beauty for a while longer, and, eventually, that's the one that wins.

But his stare seems to make his friend uncomfortable, if the way he shifts and fidgets is anything to go by, and Lance forces himself to stop before he incomodates Keith, god forbid he leaves and he's left to his own devices.

Wallowing in self-doubt and the uncertainty of the future, wondering if his life is going to be a constant stream of routine after routine, with nothing to make him feel alive anymore, nothing to rekindle the flame in his soul and make everyday shine as he looks forward to what the future may bring.

He doesn't want that. He can't be content with that, not when he knows he can do so much _more_ , not when he feels like he can contribute something to the world if only Allura would _let him._ He understands that she's worried, that the deaths and pain their kind have suffered is not something to take lightly, but if they remain deep beneath the waves, where no one can reach them, they will eventually get cut off from all contact, and isolation only brings quiescence.

They need to take risks to be able to advance, but his sister refuses to send an envoy to the land, always telling him to _be patient_ , to _wait a little more,_ like she has a plan, like she's actively doing something to solve this stressful situation. But she never tells him anything of importance, never shares her ideas or what she's working on, so he's left with the impression that she doesn't trust him, and that she's just buying time until she finally tells him that all merfolk will never go up to the surface again.

He isn't about to accept that.

So that's why he's decided to take matters into his own two hands. If she isn't going to send an envoy or a diplomatic representative and fight for the equality and coexistence that had once been the pride of their lands, then he was going to.

Their kind can't keep to their small patch of sea forever, they need to hunt and expand their villages, travel to different seas and build new settlements, swim without the fear of ships intercepting them and capturing their own, leaving them unable to provide for their kin as they are forced to stay in their village, eventually bringing famine and misery to their families and loved ones.

And that's _unacceptable_.

They cannot keep living in fear.

Lance wants a future in which Allura's younglings can swim around free of any fright or suspicion, released of the shackles that will tie them down to a restricted area if nothing is done about the humans threatening to break the equilibrium that has lasted eons.

And if he's the one that needs to do something about it, _so be it._

"-ance? Lance? You okay?" Keith's voice brings him out of the spiral of worry that he's been drowning in, and he notices that his own brow is furrowed and he's clearly showing a displeased expression.

That won't do.

Keith doesn't need Lance's troubles burdening him or souring his mood, not after what he told him last time. He knows grief takes time to disappear, and mourning a loved one is never easy, so he wants his friend to enjoy their time together and brush away his pain, even if only temporarily.

Lance swipes his own concerns aside and leaves them in a corner of his mind for a later date, bringing forth an honest smile as he focuses on the now and lets his troubles drift away, looking intently into Keith's eyes as he feels himself relax.

"Hi, Keith. How are you doing?" His friend shivers slightly, and Lance wonders if all humans are so fragile and easily chilled, or if it's only Keith. The day seems warm enough that no creature should be feeling cold, and even the ocean's temperature is quite high, which makes him feel sleepy and like being lazy all day.

But maybe Keith's sick or the breeze is too much for his bare shoulders and legs, since his skin seems really frail and delicate compared to Lance's own rough, hard one. Maybe he should bring him one of the pelts he has stored in his secret cave, the place being full of trinkets and books and other stuff that Shay had gifted to him.

And that he'd promptly hid from Allura, knowing she wouldn't approve.

"You cold, Keith? I can bring you something to cover yourself with, if you want." Keith looks at him for a second before shaking his head, pointing to the jacket clinging to his hips with an amused look etched on his features.

"Ah....right, I totally knew you had that, I just...wanted to be polite, you know? Merfolk are really hospitable and courteous." Keith snorts and then lets out a small giggle, and the sound makes his hands itch and tail swipe back and forth under the surface. He likes that sound, it's even prettier that the one from the bell around Keith's neck.

He pretends to be offended, and crosses his arms, turning his back to the other as he huffs.

"Sorry. But it's okay, really. It's a really warm day, I'm not cold at all." Lance stops his pantomime and rests his arms on the rocky edge, watching as Keith sits and lets his legs dangle over the edge, dipping his - what were they called again? Ah, yeah- toes into the water and sighing in apparent relief.

"You should be careful, Keith. This part of the beach is like a cliff, from where this rocky edge ends, it drops directly into the deep, no slope gradually leading downwards or anything." He sees Keith gulp and scoot a little backwards, but he doesn't move from his position, which makes Lance rise an eyebrow, knowing that his friend is not an avid swimmer. ( _Humans in general aren't, if what he heard is true_ ).

"I'll just sit here and be really still so I don't fall in. The water's actually refreshing, I was feeling like I was going to melt, today's weather is too much for my psyche." Lance agrees. His fair skin is really pale, and it seems the sun's rays are doing him no good, colouring various of the uncovered areas in a slight reddish tone that must feel really uncomfortable.

He experienced something similar one time, when he was a youngling and got lost, ending up beached and baking under the sun for a few hours. He'd suffered his first and only fever back then, and he remembers with vivid clarity how much he'd suffered, how his body was overheated and he couldn't breath, and how his skin felt on fire, like crabs were crawling all over him.

He'd scratched his arms raw before Allura had smacked his hands away, rubbing some ointment and algae onto the scorched skin, and, eventually, the pain and the irritation had faded. That was when he began taking better care of himself, he hadn't wanted to mess up the smooth, pretty skin he'd been gifted with, so he'd tried his best to make sure it always stayed in top condition.

He hopes Keith's does, too.

Although he doesn't have to worry about his own anymore, since his skin stopped being vulnerable to such things after his tenth summer, when every youngling grows more scales and their outer skin hardens as a show of maturity, allowing them to hunt and dive onto the deeper depths without a problem.

But he knows humans are not like merfolk, at all. He's pretty sure their skin doesn't get tougher or more resistant to heat and cold, neither do they have scales to protect them. So being in direct contact with the sun and it's heat, and then having a flaming breeze blowing at them....the constant rise in temperature must feel unpleasant.

So that's why, without thinking, instincts acting on their own accord, he raises his hand and lightly touches Keith's shoulder, the other startling and jumping a little, looking questioningly at Lance. But he doesn't talk, just rests his webbed hand onto heated skin and waits, gazing from the corner of his eye to see Keith's reaction, if he doesn't like touching or the feel of his ice-cold hands on his body.

But then his friend lets out a huge, relieved sigh, slumping slightly backwards as he closes his eyes, lips tilted the smallest bit upwards in a quiet, tiny smile.

"That feels....nice. Your hands are really cold." He snorts at his friend and rests the same hand against his forearm now, being careful so he doesn't scratch him by mistake.

"I told you before, remember? Merfolk are cold blooded, unlike _you_. So, why, pray tell, are you wandering around in this heat, and without cover?" The human looks thoughtful for a second, then points with his finger to the expanse of trees behind him, as if that explains anything at all.

"I'm looking for food. I wanted some coconuts to make dinner tonight, but the ones I found are too green for me to use, so I've been walking around searching for the right ones." He blanks, and just stares at Keith, and a confused chirp escapes him before he can help himself, embarrassing him to no end. His friend raises a brow and tries to meet his eyes, eventually speaking when he notices Lance has no intention of doing so.

"What is it? Was it something I said?" He shakes his head and takes back his hand, stretching the other out and caressing Keith's ankle, which is the nearest part he can reach.

"No....I just....what- what is a coco-nut?" For a second, it looks like his human friend's mind has overheated just like his body, he doesn't even blink. But then he makes a sound of realization and he replies to Lance's previous question.

"Of course you wouldn't know. Merfolk, right, I'm an idiot." He laughs and pats Keith's ankle and calf, chuckling at the other's embarrassment, watching as the red expands and covers even more of his skin, this time for completely different reasons.

"I- I can show you, if you want. You can drink the green ones if they are seven months old, at least, and it's really sweet and refreshing too." Lance fakes thinking about it, just so he can stare at Keith a little longer, and is about to agree when his eyes land on the bell around Keith's neck.

Small, round, and made of some sort of crystal like material, being slightly see-through but opaque at the same time, with a few rough edges that make him think the trinket has been carved, instead of forged, both being techniques that fascinate and interest him.

Which is why he leans even closer to Keith -completely disregarding the human's policy about unannounced physical proximity- holding himself up with his arms as he looks intently at the sphere, his forehead nearly touching his friend's chest, which seems to stop moving for a second before rising again.

And then he asks. Because he can't help himself.

"What kind of object is this? What material it's made of? It made a rather pleasant sound, and it's actually the reason I could find you." He sees the moment his friend freezes, how his muscles tense and his fingers grip stone with too much force, nails scrapping against it in a painful motion. From how close he is, he hears how his breath hitches and sees his hands rising slowly until they cradle the bell in between scarred fingers.

He dares take a look at Keith's face, and his expression is so torn and full of sorrow that he regrets ever asking about it. His instincts scream at him to do something, anything to soothe his pain and take away that grief stricken, bittersweet smile. But before he can even begin to come up with an apology, Keith is looking him in the eye, biting his lip and frowning before opening his mouth.

His voice comes out rough and coarse.

It still sounds sweet.

\--

He gently cradles the bell in between his fingers, and feels the beginning of the nausea that usually accompanies him now rise in his throat, leaving him breathless and frozen. He tries to speak, knows that he needs to, but he feels like he's choking on all the lies and guilt while they steal his voice and oxygen away. And no matter how much he opens his mouth, no sound comes out.

But he keeps on trying, knows he doesn't have the luxury of remaining silent. Words of courage and affection swirl inside his mind, remind him of what he's fighting for, of that smile that lit up any room and arms that could bring warmth to the coldest of days.

And he hesitates, but never stops.

He lies to himself and says that it's necessary, that his fate is already sealed and that he's doing the right thing. He needs to do this, needs to feel human again, needs to know he's not alone and that he will feel whole again at the end of the path he's chosen.

He's trapped, and the only way to move on is forward.

The words taste bitter on his tongue as he mutters them, and they burn in his throat as he speaks, but he strives on, pushes himself to continue, gulps what feels like razors and acid and gazes upon the curious eyes of the being before him, who leans in his space without so much as a warning.

"I...this bell belonged to someone very dear to me." He sounds wretched and weak and he hates it, hates how soft and croaky his voice comes out and how pity and understanding shine in Lance's blue eyes, his expression one of concern.

He can't breathe.

"Is it....is it the same person you're mourning still?" He feels himself nod, and absent mindedly rolls the sphere from on finger to another, making it chime softly and reflect a wide range of colours as the sun's rays land on it's many edges.

It distracts him, makes the conversation seem far away, like he's detached from it, not involved at all. And it might make him a coward -something he already knows- but it's what he wants, what he _needs_. So he continues to fidget nervously, eyes focused on a small flower petal drifting on the ocean's surface, white and small, probably coming from the beautiful garden a few hours away.

"I see. I'm sorry if I reminded you of something painful. I've just never seen something so pretty before, so I was curious about it. And the sound it makes is pretty sweet, too." He knows. _God_ , does he know. He runs the facts over in his head; what he knows about it, where it comes from, how it was made. And proceeds to tell Lance in a deadpan, defeated tone, like he's reading it straight out of a book or piece of paper, like he has it memorized and branded into his soul.

Which he does.

"It's made from a mineral called Enfys, which comes from mountains far away, located somewhere in between the East Kingdom and the North, close to the frozen plains of Lev and the rocky terrains of Kot." While he recites what he knows about the small trinket, he watches as Lance's face lits up more and more, a tiny smile taking over his features whilst his tail swipes left and right in what he knows is excitement.

His scaly hand is still resting on Keith's calf, and he becomes extremely aware of how soft and careful he's being while touching and cooling his skin, not scratching him even once or resting his hand in a place that makes him uncomfortable or anxious.

Although he is, now, but for a completely different reason.

"It's...it's said that this mineral has been bathed in the sun's rays and the rainbows of the plains for years before it's mined, and afterwards it's carved and slowly modeled to become whatever the seller wants to. It's a slow and meticulously done process, a lot of patience is required and a mastery of the crafts is needed to do it, but the result is always breathtaking, so it's really coveted." Lance seems to radiate joy and energy, and he feels he will melt if he doesn't look away, like he will spill all his deepest, dark secrets without meaning to and drive his friend away.

And he doesn't want that. Anything but that.

His shoulders itch and ache, and he choses to focus on that instead. He knows his skin is way too sensitive to be waltzing around in nothing but a flimsy tank top, but he's had a few hard weeks filled with barter, travels, deals and threats and a ridiculously small amount of sleep.

So he thinks he's entitled to not care about it for now and deal with it later.

Which he knows he will regret in a few hours. But he's too tired to do anything about it, and he'd already postponed this for far too many days. So when he had left home, he'd done it with whatever he was wearing, his mind too troubled and strung up to rethink his choice.

The air feels scorching against his burning skin, and the humidity in the atmosphere makes every breath he takes wet and way too warm, like he's trying to inhale while being inside a furnace. His lungs protest and his throat screams at him to do something about it, to drink some water ot hide amongst the shade. But he's rooted to the spot, and way too stubborn to let this chance slip past.

Time keeps running, the hours keep passing, and every second he spends alone is like a shard of glass piercing his heart.

His neck burns uncomfortably hot for a second, and he hisses when his own hand touches the skin there, moaning in annoyance when his palm is too sweaty and warm to bring any sort of relief.

Something wet and slippery rests on the junction between neck and shoulder, and he startles with a small yelp, opening his eyes and squinting through the glare of the sun to glance at Lance, who let's out a concerned chirp and tilts his head in wonder.

He follows the line of his shoulders as they drop into a slim waist, beautiful scales beginning under his navel and disappearing under the surface and into his tail, which leans sideways and peeks from the water and towards Keith....

He's actually resting the ends of his tail on Keith's neck, and he can't believe how refreshing and soothing it actually is. The membranes on each side are silky and soft, cold and kind of slimy, just like eels, and he knows it should feel disgusting, but it doesn't , and his sunburnt nape really appreciates the gesture.

"Is this the equivalent of you resting your feet on me?" He says, amused. But it seems Lance didn't find it that funny, and he pouts before smacking him with his fins on the back of the head, sending water droplets everywhere and drenching him in a light drizzle that feels heavenly.

"Don't be mean, Keith. At least I don't have those....grotesque things called toes. I heard they smell like rotten algae." He resists the urge to chuckle, fidgeting with the bell and reminding himself that this is reality, that this is his life now, and that regret and guilt will do nothing for him, they will change _nothing_.

He can only move onwards. Always. Look towards the future. Don't look back.

He repeats that to himself, like a mantra, and wishes he could trick his own brain into believing it, so he doesn't have to choke on despair every single time.

Swallowing seems much more difficult now. But he still manages to vanish the lump in his airways, and points towards the immense expanse of trees on his back before sharing his idea with Lance once more.

"Hey, remember what I said before? You want to taste some coconut water?" Lance nods eagerly, and leans even more towards the ground, eyes alight with stars as he grins, teeth looking as sharp as ever and fins gleaming a soothing sky blue.

"Yeah! I've never tasted anything from the earth, except that one time Rolo brought...what was it....pineapple! But it was too acid for me, and I had a stomach-ache for days. I hope this is better..." Lance frowns, rubbing his belly and pursing his lips, thoughtful.

"It is, I promise. It's actually quite sweet and has a lot of nutrients and stuff, it's really healthy, from what the healers say. I need to go back there and climb a tree to get them down, so you'll have to wait for a while.....unless....you want to come with me?" It's a long shot, and he doesn't even know why he tries it, but the words are out of his mouth before he can even think of what he's doing. He watches as Lance's face does a strange thing, conflicting feelings battling on his features as he eventually shakes his head and leans back, clearly anxious now.

"Sorry, can't do that. You know merfolk don't really....go onto the earth without good motives since we're vulnerable outside of the ocean. There's few reasons a merfolk would leave their home and walk the earth; one would be if they found their mate, and decided to shift so as to live together as humans, and the other would be.....to die." He blinks and stills for a second, trying to act as if he doesn't know this already, as if he -and the better half of the population on the continent- don't know a thousand-and-more facts about merfolk.

So he hums, and prepares himself for a small history lesson that he'd probably memorized years ago from some dusty, worn out book left by his predecessors.

" You probably know this already, but in their origins, merfolk were born from magic, from the souls of the deceased that died at sea and were reborn as water creatures, beings that were loved by the spirits and the sea and were given a second chance. " He does, indeed, know this, so he just nods, prompting Lance to continue.

"In the beginning, they were few, and as they were scattered all throughout the ocean, none of them ever found each other, and it was but a small species that nobody knew about. Until, eventually, some of them met, some fell in love, they mated and reproduced and the population grew. This time, not because of death or grief, but because two beings loved each other and wanted to create a family, and so they did." He knows this, learnt everything about it when he was in the academy, memorized every single fact and curiosity about merfolk as his teacher berated him again and again for not paying attention.

He remembers the way _he'd_ slapped him with a book with fondness and affection, always saying that if he did it hard enough, maybe the knowledge would stick and he would be saved of the torture that was trying to teach him.

He can't prevent a tiny smile from breaking through his façade, but the searing despair that follows takes care of that, and he feels cold even when bathed by the scorching sun's rays.

"Some merfolk that are _'Reborns'_ remember their previous lives, and some don't. But for those who do, when the end draws near, they feel compelled to go back to the land to perish, as if it calls them back to where they once belonged. I knew of someone who traveled all the way back to where his previous family lived, only to drop before their tombstones and die with a smile on their face." He averts his gaze, can't face the pain laced in Lance's voice or the sorrow in his eyes.

He knows this, everything, he could recite all the data with his eyes closed as the phantom feeling of hands running through his hair and a rough laugh take him back to the past.

But it hurts too much. So he doesn't.

"But I'm prattling. Anyway what I was trying to say is, that, unless it's a really dire -or extremely happy, it depends- situation, I won't leave the safety of the ocean, no merfolk would. We are not made for earth anymore, and becoming humanoid is.....well...." Keith looks up with a confused frown. He's under the impression that merfolk can shift at will, no document has ever said otherwise.

But if Lance's expression is anything to go by, he's absolutely _mistaken_ , and he may have asked something excessive without even knowing it.

"I....when merfolk shift to human form, it's....well....there's no turning back. It's for life." He....didn't know that. They refrained from mentioning that in the academy, although he's sure it was because no one actually knew this, and not because they purposely withheld information.

"I'm sorry, Lance. I didn't know that, I just wanted..." It's a low blow, he knows. But he says it anyway because his soul is as black as the dark abyss of the ocean's depths, and he's past the point of no return. "....wanted to spend more time with you, show you the nice things we have around." Lance's face falls, and his stomach constricts, the urge to vomit overwhelming him because he feels vile, selfish, evil.....and knows he's every single one of those things but still perseveres.

Because he's _weak_ , because he can't take the loneliness and the pain, because his mom is already gone and his dad left before he even knew how to read. Because he can't work on his own, and nothing matters if dinners are spent on an empty table and travels are only filled with the chirping of birds and the silent breeze that ruffles the tree tops.

He hates himself. But he hates being alone even more.

"I'm sorry Keith....really, but...I _can't_." He relents, and makes a hasty apology, hoping that he hasn't messed up and lost his chance, hoping that this creature will still talk to him.

It's his only solace, his light.

"That's fine, I'm sorry I asked, too. I didn't know. If I did, I wouldn't have been so nonchalant about it, I didn't mean to be disrespectful or anything. Want me to go take those coconuts? I assure you they're tasty." Lance's face lits up once more, looking almost relieved, and he beams and chirps like a child, excitedly talking and asking questions, smiling all the while with a fond look in his eyes that makes him want to run away.

He runs towards the palm trees, climbs one as Lance encourages him and asks him to be careful, and then jumps down and rolls onto the sand, making Lance laugh as he looks, quote, _'Like a stingray trying to camouflage'_. He teaches Lance how to open the coco, and the merman listens attentively, taking in everything and looking awed and intrigued, frequently asking questions to sate his curiosity.

They open the cocos, then drink the water, and Lance beams and squeals at how tasty it is, grinning so wide that he's worried his lips will split on the sides -although he's sure Lance can do that already, if the lines on each side of his mouth are any indication- from the width of his smile.

They talk and pass time and when night comes they part ways with a _'See you soon_ ', and he heads home with his head hung low and his hands covering his mouth, his lips upturned as disgust makes him dizzy, hot and cold at the same time.

He reaches home and promptly retches on the outhouse, dragging his worn and sunburnt body to the bed as he falls down with a thud. He curls in on himself and tries to breathe through the tears that threaten to escape his closed lids, his throat closing as he whimpers and hates, hates, hates, _hates_ and hopes, hopes that he's strong enough to do this.

The silence of his house smothers him, and he reminisces of a time when the clatter of teapots and pans filled the room, and steps, comforting and familiar, echoed around as a new day rose.

He drifts to the sound of his own heartbeat ringing loud in his ears and his anger-driven tears being muffled by his pillow, nightmares of blue eyes and a kind smile plaguing his rest and not giving him reprieve.

It feels like he's paying the price for his choices.

He doesn't sleep that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some fun facts:
> 
> -Sinine: Means blue  
> -Enfys: Means rainbow  
> -Piros: Means red


	2. The flowers (The beauty)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update time! Hope you guys are enyoing this so far, the narrative is vague on purpose, just so you know, but there's a plot, you just have to wait for it ;)
> 
> Feel free to tell me what you think! Or just scream at me <3
> 
> Thanks to everyone that commented, bookmarked, suscribed or took the time to read this! <3

* * *

Lance sighs, and lays on the soft coral bed as he recounts the events of the past few months, and all the excitement and joy they brought to his life. After coconut day, they met numerous times to talk with each other and get to know the other better, bond a bit, like Keith likes to say. Their meetings range from a rushed ten minute talk because Keith -or himself, sometimes- has things to do, to an hour long, heated discussion about whether starfish are actually sentient or not - _they are not, what the heck Keith_ \- and he's enjoyed every single one of them.

He knows they are _friends_ now, and gets giddy whenever Keith refers of him as such. It fills him with a sense of accomplishment and warmth that he cannot convey in words, and he wants to scream it at the top of his lungs, show off his awesome friend and let him meet Katie and Hunk and Plaxum and his sister.

But, of course, he can't do that.

Thanks to whatever deity watches over him and his stupid -but entertaining- decisions, he's been able to hide his escapades, and the fact that he has a human friend, from his sister and everyone else. And although he's eager to share with them everything he's learnt and all the cool things Keith has shown him, he's scared.

Scared that Allura will be disappointed and forbid him from seeing Keith anymore, scared that his friends won't understand and judge him for what he's done, scared that he will lose the one thing keeping him from the edge of madness as loneliness does him in.

It's not that he doesn't trust Katie, Hunk, or Matt. He loves them all, and he knows they love him too, they cuddle him when he's sad and nuzzle his neck when he's feeling alone, they let him have sleepovers and include him in their plans every single time. But Katie and Hunk are building their own lives, and Matt and Florona are planning their wedding and getting their home ready for their future together.

They have no interest in anything to do with the surface or it's people whatsoever, they plan on spending their lives under the sea, with zero interaction with the outer world and it's beauty and all it has to offer. And although Allura -as a diplomat and the link between the two worlds- says that she's keeping in touch and working to bring forth a solution to the widening gap between species, he only ever sees her in school, teaching younglings or shutting herself off in her room for hours on end.

It frustrates him so.

The water gently caresses his hair, the current washing over him before moving on as small fish travel within it, looking for their next destination, and he groans, wondering what is the right choice, what he has to do to ensure that his loved ones don't brush him -and his beliefs- away. He knows they are scared, of course they are, there's always the threat of hunters taking them away and pulling all their scales out as they die, refusing to become human and spend eternity chained to their captors.

It's better than the alternative, anyway. Secrets are meant to be kept.

He huffs and decides that it's enough brooding for today, and makes the split-second decision to round the island and see if the Mer from the village nearby -behind the kelp forest- know of anything going on in the human world, he needs to keep informed.

He travels fast and without stopping, diving into underground tunnels and through a canopy-like coral bed that shelters him from prying eyes, even though he knows humans cannot swim as deep as to catch sight of him. But caution never hurt anyone.

He passes the deserted plains of Brinicle and the bioluminescent river of Aurora, and although he's watched them more times that he can count, they never cease to impress him, and he's kind of glad that no one other that Merfolk and the native species are privy to their ethereal beauty. He would love it, however, if he was able to show them to Keith, since their magnificence rivals anything he's ever seen in the ocean, and he's sure his friend would appreciate them, and maybe show him something nice in return.

Nevermind that he cannot -and will not- leave the safety of the waters to watch the stunning sights that the human world has to offer.

He can still dream.

He skids to a halt when the rocky walls of Oria come in sight, and inwardly smiles when he thinks of Thace, Trigel, Nyma, Luxia, and every other friend and acquaintance he's made over the years in the small -but lively- village. He enjoys talking with them, and Nyma is always ready to gossip about the most recent news -both from the upper world and their own- always hunting for the juicy gossip and the latest info on what the humans are, quote, ' _plotting behind our backs'._

She doesn't have a good opinion on humans, but that's mostly because her parents were taken away when she was a youngling, and her hate still burns bright and scalding like the volcanoes near Disra. She's never once stopped searching ways to take revenge on the hunters that broke her family, and he knows that she's drowned a few....suspicious visitors that had barged into the outskirts of her village.

With zero remorse.

He's always telling her that their deaths will change nothing, that her parents won't come back and her grief will not fade, that the anger that runs through her veins will eventually consume her if she doesn't stop. But she's adamant about doing so, says that she needs to protect what's left of her family, and those she holds dear, which is one of the main reasons she created her information network. She wants to be aware, wants to know if an attack is being planned or humans intend to raid her village and hurt those she loves once more.

And he has no doubt that she knows all about it, and that no human has managed to get past her defenses even once. Her protective and fierce nature is something to be wary of, and he believes those that carelessly wandered into her territory learnt that lesson first hand.

But he knows he's always welcome at her house, so he dives through the stone arc, ready to head towards the small path that leads to her lovely home, and comes to a sudden stop when the echo of a chime reaches his ears, familiar and sweet, making him giddy and excited because that sound can only mean one thing.

 _Keith_.

Keith is near.

If he swims towards the origin of the noise he will be able to see his friend once more. He knows this because he'd informed Keith that he was able to hear the sound of that small, crystal bell even from a distance. And his friend, surprised but delighted, had told him that if that was true, then they could use his excellent hearing to find each other since they could never plan their meetings, seeing as Keith was always busy and Lance was trying to leave home less so his sister didn't become suspicious.

But he's free to go and see him now, because Allura knows he's left to see Nyma and visit the village, and if he does that after seeing Keith and leaving for home, it won't be a lie at all, and the thought makes him feel a little less guilty for the way he's betraying his sister and her trust.

He's always been stubborn, and his beliefs strong and sincere in their righteousness. So even when he feels bad about going behind his sister's back and doing exactly what she told him not to, there's no way he's gonna stop. Not when he's learning so much. Not when he's having so much fun and the void that has been festering inside his chest is now filled with flapping stingrays every time he talks with Keith.

He doesn't want that feeling to stop.

So he twirls around and slaps his tail with enough force to propel him halfway to the surface, small jellyfish and snails moving out of the way as they catch sight of him, swimming as fast as he can towards the dulcet tone that, even to this day, enchants him and beckons him to _follow_.

And so he does.

And five minutes later he's peering from under the surface, eyes peeking out shyly as he glances around, searching for any hostile presence or unwanted witnesses that could hinder his date-meeting. His _meeting_. With a _friend._ His very human _friend_.

The bell chimes again, this time closer, and he rises and let's himself be seen, waiting for a rough, raspy voice to call out to him, say his name in that way that makes his tail curl and his lips twitch in the beginning of a smile. He doesn't have to wait more than a few seconds before it happens.

" _Lance_!" He beams and chirps in response, whistling Keith's name in his own native tongue and grinning wide when his friend laughs in the distance, the sound warming his chest and making him feel light, like he could float away if he didn't anchor himself to something.

He follows the sound of Keith's breathy giggles and arrives upon a small river that flows into the ocean from a deep, thick forest filled with colors and sounds and life. And admist all of it, Keith stands, radiant and glowing, with the sun bathing him in it's glow from behind, illuminating his cheekbones and shoulders as a myriad of petals rain over him like rainbow-colored dust.

He's smiling wide, still breathless and chuckling, his cheeks a rosy pink and his eyes nearly closed as he tilts his head to the side, bare arms resting on his waist while he tries to control his laughter.

He sees freckles everywhere, and the tan lines from the many hours his friend spends into the sun. Sees the way his damp hair clings to the nape of his neck and forehead, curling slightly and making him want to reach out and touch it, know if it's as soft as it looks.

He sees the way the wind ruffles the small ponitail he's made to pin his fringe back and how it rises his shirt, revealing tan skin and ripe muscle that can only come from hours and hours of hard work and dedication. He sees the way Keith looks at him, eager and happy, saying his name once more with a tender smile, and wishes he could imprint this moment onto his heart, so he would never be able to forget it.

He doesn't think he _can_.

Time feels endless and frozen, and he's stuck staring at the ethereal sight before him, completely mesmerized while his heart beats at unhealthy speeds and his cheeks feel on fire. His breath is stolen away, and his eyes are incapable of leaving the figure before him, his hands subconsciously reaching forwards as if to hold, to touch and cherish and lo-

But then his friend is calling his name once more, and the moment is broken.

He swims close to the shore and finds a place that covers his body so he doesn't dry, deciding to sit close to the riverbank as Keith approaches, his steps light and with a spring to them.

"Hey, Lance, how are you? I didn't expect to see you today." His voice is slightly scratchy, and Keith clears his throat before rubbing the back of his neck in an awkward, nervous gesture, his cheeks still that soft, rosy color that he thinks suits him so much.

"I'm fine, just visiting some friends. How about you?" His friend shakes his head, and some petals fall down onto his lap as he sits cross-legged near him, picking them off and letting them fall onto the water's surface.

"I....well, it was supposed to be a surprise, but...since you're here already..." Keith reaches towards his back, where a knapsack of sorts lies, and proceeds to take out something he can't see, fidgeting with it for a few seconds before facing Lance again.

"I brought something, for...uh, for you. Because last time I couldn't take you there -he flinches, feeling guilty- and you mentioned in one of our meetings that you, Merfolk in general, like pretty things. And, well....when I saw this, I thought about you." Keith shows him his hands, and on them there's-

Flowers rain on him.

He's surrounded by reds, pinks, yellows, whites, and many more colors that fall before his eyes, blossoms of all kinds, shapes and textures surrounding him, their smell so sweet and fresh it makes him gasp in awe and surprise.

He's never seen flowers like this before, doesn't know what they're called or where they come from. But looking up at Keith as he tilts his cupped hands and let's more petals and plants caress him as they drop, he looks nothing short of a god, and Lance melts under the warmth of his smile with which the beautiful blooms cannot ever hope to compete with.

"Keith...." He trails off, not sure what to do with himself, not sure how to react when the only thing his instincts are telling him is to hug this human kneeling before him, coo at him and shroud him with affection and bring him something in return, give him something that is worthy of the radiant smile he's gifted him with.

He doesn't think there's anything in both worlds that deserves it so.

\--

He sees the way Lance looks at him, and feels his stomach do somersaults inside his body, bringing forth a wave of nausea that he swallows down and tries to ignore, too caught up in the moment to even think past the thought of _'give him the flowers'_.

He lets the last of the Cyclamen's fall, their petals bright in the light of the sun as they drop to rest among the blooms scattered amongst the water's surface; Oleanders, Anemones, Asters, Snapdragons and Marigolds. All of them surrounding Lance and making him look otherworldly, like those flowers were made for him, to highlight his beauty and widen his already beaming smile, to make his eyes shine bright and his expression lit up as he blushes, giggling.

The merman gathers the flowers on his arms and smells them, sighing softly and brushing the petals tenderly, almost reverent, as if afraid that the softest of touches will make them break down and vanish. Keith raises his hand to cover his mouth and wills himself to gulp down the whine that wants to escape, the need to scream his lungs out and shout for the world to hear just how unfair everything is, how unjust and _wrong_.

He's regretting drinking that alcoholic beverage before coming, but there's no way he would have been able to do this otherwise, and he hates that he's such a coward that he had to resort to liquid courage to go ahead. But a tense and pained expression wasn't what Lance expected, what he wanted.

And when he'd looked himself in the mirror that morning and saw the way his lips upturned and how his brow furrowed, he hadn't had a choice but to look for aid in the small closet that held all their drinks.

He had vowed to wait until he was older to drink them.

He wonders if _he_ would be upset if he knew Keith had broken his promise.

But at least he looks happy, at least his giddiness and excitement are not fake. He's strung up and fidgety, he can't stop smiling for no reason and he's talking more than usual, he's given him the flowers and managed to do so with a smile painted on his face.

It's a success, but it makes him sick.

He grips his forearms with too much force, and his nails dig into the skin, the pain a welcome distraction from the present moment, the burn of the pressure bringing him back to the reality he has to live through.

The wind blows, and the breeze caresses his skin and makes the petals fly away, rising with the current as they disappear past the treetops of the dense forest nearby. Unwillingly, his eyes go back to Lance, who is humming under his breath as he touches the blooms with utmost care, a sincere smile on his face.

He feels his own face mirror that expression, and wonders if it's noticeable how his thoughts and his expressions don't match, how his drunk, giddy smile covers the dark, corrupted part of his agitated mind.

Lance glances up at him and beams, breathlessly giggling, eyes crinkling and dimples appearing on the edge of his lips. Small, blue freckles dust his nose and cheeks, seeming to pop out of his tanned skin while his tail whips back and forth.

And he supposes that, no, it's not noticeable at all.

And that's as much as a relief as it's torture, so he bites the inside of his cheek to ground himself, and runs through his mind what he wants to say, what he knows will move his world _forward_.

But he comes up empty, mind blank. Words have no meaning and he can't seem to recall how they work, what they're used for, what he used to like so much about them, when his life was more than syllables that burn his tongue and make him choke.

He's frozen.

 _Lost_.

It's hard, it's painful, and he wants to stop but- but he will never.

He _can't_.

So instead of talking, instead of trying to get his tongue to work, he waits for Lance to do so, and doesn't have to wait even for a full minute before he does. It's sad, how he was waiting for this, how predictable the merman is, how he knows what he's going to do or how he's going to react, how he can read him like an open book and knows what to expect.

He hates himself for it.

"Keith.... I, why did you-?" Lance's mouth quirks, trying to repress his smile, and he does the same with his own grimace, raising his hands to rub the back of his neck in what he hopes is a bashful manner. He opens his mouth, and this time, the words flow with ease, like an unrestrained torrent, letter after letter rolling out his tongue with practiced charm, smooth and effortless.

"Well, I- we've been friends for a few months now, and you told me that Merfolk like pretty things. This- those flowers come from a place I know, the one I wanted to show you last time." Lance seems to deflate at his explanation, eyes filled with sorrow even when a smile lits up his face, his blue lined eyes gazing at the sky and the forest with a longing that makes Keith tremble.

Disgust seems to be an emotion he's rapidly getting acquainted with.

He swallows and continues talking before he loses his nerve. "I felt pretty bad because I made you sad when we talked that day, when you explained to me why you couldn't leave the water. So instead of bringing you to the garden, I brough the garden to _you_. " He cannot describe with words the emotion that shines in Lance's eyes when he says that, neither the smile that takes over his features or the blush that covers his cheeks.

There's no description in this universe that makes justice to the sight he's witnessing.

He doesn't deserve it.

"I- thank you Keith. They're......they are _beautiful_. Did you pick them out?" The hopeful tone of Lance's dulcet voice runs through him like a dagger to the chest, and he wants to say no, wants to drive him away and run until he can't see his blue eyes or scale covered shoulders anymore.

But, this time, his words are not lies, this time, when he would've loved nothing more than to say another one, his mouth speaks nothing but the truth, and he feels the darkness that's slowly tearing him apart sneak it's inky tendrils around his throat, forcing him to talk.

"I, yeah, I did. I chose the most beautiful ones for _you_." A giggle, and then Lance is hugging the small bouquet to his chest, chirping, and trying to hide his beaming, soft face into the multi-colored petals that compliment his eyes and bring out his natural beauty with astounding intensity.

He chose them himself. Indeed he did. It's his own wicked, pathetic attempt at conveying his feelings, saying without words what he's keeping to himself, knowing with certainty that Lance doesn't know the language of flowers.

He should find another word that it's not 'coward' to describe himself.

He can't seem to find any.

"Keith-" He shifts his gaze towards the merman, relaxing his clenched fists and uncrossing his legs that have all but fallen asleep by now. " -you-wait here for a second, I- I'm gonna do something real quick." Before he has a chance to protest, Lance has dived under water and out of his sight, and he waits for ten seconds before letting his face turn back to it's natural state.

Frowning. Angered. Sorrowful. _Desperate_.

He takes what little time he has of reprieve, and punches the ground with his fist hard enough to draw blood, the effects of the alcohol completely gone by now. He growls and snarls and just wants everything to _stop_ , let him rest, let him _breathe_. He needs to feel like he's not drowning, suffocating in his own misery.

But the days keep passing, and he's more and more desolate with each starry night he watches end, he feels like joy and happiness and every other positive emotion have been erased from his life completely. They seem so far away and unreachable that he fears he won't be able to recover from their loss, cursed to never feel them again.

His days are filled with nothing but remorse and pain, rage and worthlessness and the belief that he's nothing but vile.

Sometimes, he wonders if he'll come out of this unscathed. If he will ever be able to smile honestly at anyone ever again, if he won't be crushed under the pressure of all he's done.

He tries not to think about it. But the future always looks bleak in his dreams, holding nothing bus tears and guilt and the disappointed gaze of the one he holds so dear.

He lies and says it's the best way, his only chance, that he has _no choice._

His words seem empty even to himself.

He tries not to cry. _He_ would laugh if he saw how much of a crybaby Keith has become.

"Keith!" His name being called startles him out of his downward spiral of self-hate and despair, and he jumps in place before trying to lift his head, looking for Lance.

" _No_! Don't look yet!" He stills, confused, and takes those precious seconds to put a neutral expression back on his face. " Just wait until I say you can look, okay?" He nods, and listens to the sound of water moving around and the rustle of....something, grunts and frustrated mutters filling the silence while Lance does.....whatever he's doing.

"Okay....I- I think it's fine now. You can look." He takes in a shuddering breath, chills running through his body, and slowly, ever so slowly, raises his head, gaze searching for Lance on the edge of the beach but-

There are flowers in front of him.

They are ornamented with sparkling stones and minerals and colorful shells, all of them shining with the last rays of the setting sun bathing them in a soft, warm glow.

They're arranged into some sort of bouquet, with some tied up plant acting as the basket as everything else is carefully displayed so every flower has space to shine, to stand out. There's corals of all colors, posidonias, some algae and many many more that he knows nothing about. They're bright, rainbow-colored, soft, and so, so full of _life_.

Just like Lance.

He feels a part of him shatter and hears the sound of his heart -whatever he has left- breaking, thundering inside his chest as he, unwillingly, fills with warmth and affection, clutching at his chest because it _hurts_ , it hurts _so much_.

He can't deal with this.

But his hands still reach for the gorgeous, breathtaking flowers that have been made just for _him_ , and his fingers tremble as they hold the base and lift it towards him, revealing the bashful, shy face of the merman hiding behind it, peeking at him from behind his eyelashes.

There's a small blossom tangled in his hair, and before he can think of what he's doing, of how wrong and futile his actions are, his hand is reaching towards the knots in Lance's hair, carefully taking the flower out and tucking it behind his ear. His fingertips brush cold, smooth skin, and trail down Lance's cheek before retreating, a motion he hadn't meant to do but that escaped his control, his body complying to his desires even when he, himself, tries to deny them.

Lance touches the flower and twirls his hair with his claws, whispering something.

"Do you...." He has to strain to hear what he's saying. "Do you like them? I never had the chance to- to do something like this for anyone, but- "A nervous laugh."- but I tried my best for you, since....since we're-." Lance groans and dips his head under the surface, obviously flustered.

Keith, meanwhile, grips the flowers tighter, holding them to his chest, breathing in the smell of salt and earth, a natural perfume that, for a moment, mutes the voice that always screams in the back of his mind, asking for absolution.

He shuts his eyes and clenches his jaw, brushes away the stray tear that dares escape his eye, looks up and tries to contain the sob that threatens to suffocate him.

Then he smiles.

"I love them, thank you, Lance."

He tastes ash in his mouth, and it's worse than before.

Because this time, too, he's not lying.

When he leaves, he takes the bouquet with him, and watches as it withers on the shelf of his room, with no water to nurture them, and no one to give them care. Alone and far away from their home, with their roots cut and no sunlight to caress their leaves, fated to fade away under the watchful eye of someone undeserving of such beauty.

That same night, he cries himself to sleep, and wishes, for the umpteenth time, to wake up from this nightmare to a world where everything is okay, and he's not alone.

It doesn't happen.

* * *

He humms a little song as he maneuvers the flowers -now frozen in ice thanks to his spirit friend Sinine- away from the shelf he's trying to clean, looking at them fondly before smiling like a, quote, ' _lovesick fool'_ , as Katie kindly reminded him all throughout the last few weeks.

It's actually been nearly a month and a half since the day Keith gifted him those flowers, and he'd been quick to preserve them and put them somewhere his sister could not find them, even though he has a lie ready for when she does.

Because she will.

She's curious like that, and likes to pry too much for a governor. She says she doesn't care, she's young and single and likes to have fun and gossip like any other mermaid. He thinks she's just bored to tears with her job and wants to find some entertainment, but doesn't dare tell her so.

Leaving the flowers back where they belong -by his bed- he looks himself in the mirror and takes in his appearance, noticing the smile that doesn't leave and the blush that seems to have become permanent on his face.

His friends had actually been really pushy about it, wondering why he'd been so happy and the reason why he barely spends any time with them anymore -which made him feel guilty. They asked him if he was hiding something, winking for added effect and making his blush intensify almost embarrassingly.

The questions never stopped after that.

But he'd assured them that he was just having a few good weeks, that he'd found a few beautiful new places to visit in his free time, and that he'd been enjoying his freedom to go whenever he wanted now that he was of age. Hunk had accepted his excuses without hesitation, but Katie had been skeptical, rising an eyebrow and asking, in an incredulous tone, if he thought she was an idiot.

He'd told her no, obviously, but she'd still looked at him like she was trying to peel his layers away and unravel all his secrets, making him sweat nervously with a lie on the tip of his tongue. But she'd only shook her head and gazed at him with an unreadeable expression, mouth slightly upturned as she sighed, smiling tentatively and muttering that, when he was ready, she would be there to listen to what he had to say.

Needless to say, he'd felt so touched that he'd thrown himself right at her, nuzzling her neck and curling his tail around her waist while she screamed bloody murder, trying her best to throw him off but to no avail. He could be like a leech when he wanted to.

He'd eventually released her, though, thanking her for her patience and asking Hunk about the state of their new home, offering them help with the furnishing, the gardens, the rocks, or anything they might have needed. Hunk had thanked him and took his offer in the plant department, knowing that he was the best when it came to take care of plants, and after an evening of endless chats, laughs, games and wonderful meals, he'd returned home to wait until the day he met Keith again.

And this time, he knows when that's going to be.

One and a half moon cycles. Forty five days. Six weeks.

In other words. _Today_.

It's not like they haven't seen each other since, no. They met numerous times by chance when Lance was running errands or hunting for meals, and Keith was working or scouting the forests and beaches for animals and wildlife. They would sit for a while and talk about whatever topic came to mind, more often that not being something about the human world that he was curious about, and Keith had explained with a smile on his face, always patient and kind.

And he's learnt a lot from those short meetings, information about the humans and their customs, the things they do for a living, the animals that inhabit their lands, the weapons they use, and many, many more interesting stories that Keith had shared without an ounce of annoyance or exasperation at his obstinacy.

Keith's always ready to share with Lance the ups and downs of life above the surface and everything it entails, and he's always willing and ready to listen, to absorb all that knowledge and invest it in a better future in which Merfolk don't have to hide and the ties that once united both realms can be restored.

He _will_ find a solution. He feels it in his gills. He's learnt a lot, and he has no one else but Keith to thank, for his understanding and kindness, for always lending an ear, for always being there when he reaches out his hand, for believing in him.

He wants to do something to repay him, and today's his chance.

They are meeting on a rocky structure on the west side of the island, a stone formation that has become bigger with time until it came to rival the size of the small creek where they first met. It's a place not frequented by either humans or Merfolk, mostly because is inhospitable and barren, filled with nothing but slippery boulders and flat surfaces littered with beached algae and dirt.

Keith said he chose that place because they could relax and spend time together without interruptions, and a tiny, unvoluntary flutter had risen in his chest at the notion that he'd done this for them, for _him_ , thinking about the best way to meet without trouble.

He's come to realize that every time he thinks of his friend, his heart beats faster and his chest hurts, his breath taken away when he finds those amethyst eyes that hold stars within them. His cheeks burn whenever he pictures his smile or remembers the sound of his laugh, a melody that has lulled him to sleep more times that he can count, and he can't seem to find the words to convey what he wants to say, always starstruck as he gazes at the soft profile of Keith's silhouette or the plump of his lips.

The slope of his nose, the freckles on his cheekbones, the hair that curls on the nape of his neck, the dimples on the edge of his lips, the strong muscles of his arms and back.

The way he snorts when he laughs too hard, the way his eyebrows knit together when he's deep in thought or how he scrunches up his nose when he doesn't like something, the way he tilts his head when he's confused or how he twirls his hair when he's nervous.

The way his eyes lit up when they talk about a topic that interests him, or how he huffs and pouts when he's tired or annoyed. The way his hands hold everything with care and how he looks directly into Lance's eyes when he speaks, his own showing the deepest parts of his being.

He can't seem to stop noticing it all.

And it's terrifying, it's exhilarating.

Which is exactly why his instincts are telling him to do something nice for Keith, to return the kindness he's shown him since day one, nevermind that he already gave him a bouquet in return for the flowers, he doesnt think the ones he gave were worth much at all.

So he wants something better, and after more than a month of searching, he's found it.

He feels like he's going to vibrate out of his skin with anticipation, and his eyes automatically seek the small piece of cloth that holds his present inside, a smile forming unbidden on his face as he imagines Keith's reaction to his gift.

Which he hopes is positive.

He floats towards the small slab of rock that works as a table, and cleans the mess he's made the last few days while crafting his gift for Keith, remembering how frustrated he was when the small details didn't come as he wanted them to, and how many times he'd had to re-do a part of it because he wasn't happy with it.

He's so busy murmuring about stubborn minerals and troublesome magic, that he nearly misses the whistle that echoes throughout his room, Sinine's call telling him that he has to go, Keith is waiting for him.

He barely suppresses a squeal from leaving his lips, and quickly pockets his present and some food and trinkets for their _'picnic'_ , as Keith called it, excited to show some of his little treasures to his friend and tell him the stories behind each one. He wonders if the other will like to hear them, or if he'll grow bored and tell Lance to stop talking, like people usually do due to his exuberant and social nature, his endless stream of energy too much to handle for some.

Shaking his head and trying to calm his nerves -that have come out of nowhere- he takes in a deep breath and releases it before leaving the safety of his home, swimming towards the entrance while his mind wanders, making him lose focus.

Which is why he nearly crashes onto the person coming in, a screech reverberating loudly as he turns and twirls, bumping his forehead onto the stone wall as his tail painfully slams the ceiling, making him whimper.

"Oh Goddess, Lance, are you okay?" His sister's voice asks, dripping with worry and remorse. Her soft hands come to rest on his shoulders as she supports him, maneuvering his body so he's at eye level with her.

"I'm sorry, I didn't see you there. Are you hurt?" She pokes him and looks him over for any signs of wounds, but besides a small bump on his forehead -that he knows is probably red and swollen by now- that's sore and throbbing slightly, he feels fine, albeit a bit worried that he has to show himself to Keith like this.

But at least he's not bleeding. Small mercies.

"Don't worry, 'Llura, it's nothing." He gives her a small grin that he hopes is reassuring, and he knows he's succeeded when she sighs and leans her forehead on his, muttering about heart attacks and an early death. "Don't be overdramatic, sister, it's just a small thwack to the forehead, not a knife through the heart." He receives a smack on the back of his head for that one, and whines high on his throat to show his displeasure, knowing how much his sister despises it.

"Ugh, don't say things like that, Landreth, it's bad luck." He snorts, and gets a tail to the face in retaliation, his world becoming pink for a minute before Allura decides it's enough and she brings her tail off him. "Stop laughing at me, little brother, I will exile you, you know I can." She's pouting now, her pink scales becoming almost red in her embarrassment.

"Ohhh, is this the infamous _'abuse of authority'_ I heard so much about?" He whistles, amused. "Didn't know you had it in you, sister." Her pout intensifies. A few seconds pass in complete silence, and then they are both laughing, brough to tears by the absurdity of the situation, some of them falling from the corner of their eyes as they struggle to breath.

It takes a while for them to regain their senses, and by then, all his previous emotions of anxiety and fear have disappeared, leaving him feeling light and serene.

"Sorry, this is just, too funny. Your face when you saw me- oh Goddess, it was hilarious." She clutches her scale covered chest while her tail twirls in a clear sign of amusement, her long, white curls bouncing up and down as her shoulders shake with leftover giggles. He glares at her and fakes a pout that he hopes looks innocent enough that he can slip away without her suspecting anything.

"Laugh now while you can, as soon as I return I'll be plotting my revenge, watch your back." She waves her hand in a dismissive motion, blowing a raspberry at him as she rolls her eyes, whispering a short _'Be safe'_ and _'Come home soon'_ before she pats his shoulder and their eyes cross, her own twinkling with mirth and affection.

"I'll be looking forward to it. Be creative this time, _please_." He cackles at that, and tickles her waist before she brushes him away with her fins, pushing him outside of his own home while he whines all the way out, complaining about her lack of finesse and manners.

"I've learnt from the best, Lance. Now, go have your daily trip and come back for dinner, I'll be hunting and cooking today, so you can expect something delicious when you return." He fake gasps and rests his hand over his heart, making a hurt expression before changing it to a more disgusted one.

" _You're_ cooking? Goddess, I don't know if I will return at all, that's practically a death sentence. I honestly pity the poor soul that manages to fall for you." He is not expecting the raging blush that takes over her whole face and shoulders, nor the widening of her eyes or the way her tail and ears flick back and forth in a show of nerves and shame that make him want to pry like the usual gossippers do.

But he has _some_ delicacy, still, so he pretends to ignore it, and stores that piece of information for a later date, when he can tease her and poke at her until she breaks and spills whatever secret she seems to be holding.

For now, though, he has a...date, to attend to. So he quickly waves goodbye to Allura and swipes his tail with a rapid, cutting motion, and propels himself up west, swimming carefully and always within the safety that the underground caves and the kelp forests provide.

He arrives there before he's even noticed, and peeks from behind a boulder to watch out for that familiar red and black convo, the colors that always indicate that his friend is near. He doesn't have to look long to find him. He's sitting earby, nearly touching the water, on the very edge of the rock formation that disappears under the sea, the waves teasing the edge of the blanket in which he's sitting as he focuses on....something held in his hands. 

He can't help the unvoluntary chirp that leaves his lips, a beaming smile already blooming on his face as he takes in his friend's appearance; the small braid on the side of his head, the long, red jacket trimmed with gold on the edges, the black loose shirt underneath that slips when he moves and shows a pale, freckled shoulder.

The smile that slowly tilts the corners of his mouth upwards, a tentative, shy expression lighting up his features when he catches sight of Lance, rising his hand to wave at him and beckon him to come closer.

Which he does almost instantly, trying his best not to splash water on Keith as he stops by the shore, the slight slope of the stone allowing him to sit on the same level as his friend while he lets the end of his tail dip into the water.

"Hi, Keith." He says, his tone unwillingly soft and tender, something he's noticed happens very often whenever he's with his human friend. He has yet to identify the reason why, but his instincts seem happy to just urge him into pampering and caring for Keith, and he can do nothing but obey, always ready to steal a laugh or two from the other.

"Hey, Lance. How're you doing?" Keith's voice is as soft as he remembers, and he watches as his hands leave the object -which turns out to be a book- by his side and out of reach of the rising tide, focusing solely on Lance.

The sun reflects on the surface of the ocean and on Keith's eyes, making them look warm and gentle, his own reflection staring back at him as he looks into the clear gaze of his friend. He has to avert his eyes when he feels himself become warm, though, not wanting to make Keith uncomfortable. No matter what his brain tries to tell him, he's pretty sure Keith wouldn't appreciate an impromptu hug and a nuzzling merman on his lap, all cold and slippery.

"I'm doing great, I've been studying everything you've told me so far. It's really interesting the way humans have evolved and all the contraptions they made for their own comfort. Although I have to admit they make them seem a little lazy." Keith chuckles, trying to cover his mouth to hide his laugh, legs crossed at the ankles while he drums his fingers against his thigh.

"Yeah, I'm not going to argue with you on that one. Humans are some of the most idle creatures you will ever met. If there's a way to do something in less time and with less effort, we will be the first to find it, I swear." Now it's his turn to laugh, the sound coming from deep in his belly, leaving him breathless as he bathes in the soothing presence of his friend, who seems to be fidgeting with a small basket made out of some...algae like material.

"I...uh, I got some food for us. For the picnic, I mean. I thought you might like to taste more human food, so I brough..uh....strawberries, cheese, sweet bread -ah, what else....apple pie, orange juice and a few sandwiches." He feels his stomach growl just at the mention of the treats Keith has brought, and his inner voice coos and begs him to jump his human companion, to wrap his arms around his back and curl his tail around his middle.

His hands actually twitch with the need to touch and hold, to caress and nuzzle those sunkissed cheeks and run his claws through his silky black hair. But he holds them back, those urges. They come from the deepest part of himself, the side of him that's nothing but instinct and impulse, who acts without thinking and only _feels_ , a voice that continuously reacts to the events unfolding before him, sending feelings and actions that the most primal part of him wants to do without considering the consequences.

Thankfully, he has developed a good deal of self-control, like most Merfolk are taught to do when they are younglings. So it doesn't affect him to the point of being troublesome, but it's still hard to ignore, and seems to be even more so when it concerns Keith.

Just saying his name makes his breath stutter and his stomach churn, and he needs to take a great amount of deep breaths to revert back to a neutral state.

Or, well, as neutral as he can get in the presence of his ma- friend. His _friend_. Goddess, his inner voice is wrecking his train of thought with words that _do not_ belong on his tongue.

So embarrassing.

He tries his usual method of meditation to relax and wind down the excitement that has his heart beating too fast, but it doesn't really work this time around, so he does the next best thing he can think of. Create a distraction. Focus on something else.

And before he's even thought it through, his hands are rummaging inside his sack, bringing out the small pouch in which Keith's present lays, still carefully wrapped, sitting innocently on the palm of his hand, unaware of what it means and the anxiety it brings.

He's speaking before his mind's able to catch up to his mouth.

"Keith, I- I got this, for you. I mean, I made this, myself, for you." He's stuttering and tripping over his words and it's mortifying -the humans that say Merfolk are creatures of grace and beauty have clearly never heard him talk- so instead of looking at his human friend, he gazes at the floor, extending his hand towards the other and hoping to the Goddess that the raging warmth across his cheeks goes by unnoticed.

He jumps a little when nimble fingers touch his, slowly prying the envelope from his hand. He tries his best to stay put, he really does, but he's itching to look, to watch out for his reaction and whether he likes the present or not. So he peeks from under his lashes at Keith, feeling his face burn and his lips tremble with nerves that verge on nausea.

And then Keith is unwrapping the gift and the algae fall to the ground. He sees the instant Keith's eyes widen and his mouth is left hanging open, his fingers holding onto the small trinket as he rises it to his eye level.

He thinks Keith's not even blinking. Or breathing.

But then he does. And his cheeks seem to pale as he takes in a shuddering breath, his hands trembling as his knees curl close to his chest. A small gasp escapes his lips, and it echoes in the silence that shrouds them, with only the ebb and flow of the waves to keep them company.

For one long, eternal second, he thinks he's failed, that Keith hates his gift, and he feels like crying because he thought it was perfect and it turns out he's made a fool out of himself because _of course_ Keith wouldn't like some handmade, cheap trinket when he can have so much better. He deserves so much better.

"Lance.....this is...beautiful." The breath he tries to take gets caught up in his throat, and he feels a scream on the tip of his tongue, the relief mixed with the giddiness making him feel hot and cold at the same time.

He risks one last glance at Keith.

And freezes for what seems to be the umpteenth time since they met each other.

Keith has tucked his hair behind his ear -a small, insignificant motion that shouldn't make his heart beat so fast or his tail curl so tight, but it does- and is carefully trying to put on the earring, twirling the trinket with such care it makes him physically ache. (For what, he doesn't know, but the pain is there, thrumming through his veins like liquid fire.)

His eyes are half-lidded, and the sun catches on his eyelashes as he blinks, trying to find the right spot to clasp the gift. There's a slight red tint to his nose and cheekbones from where the sun's rays have slighty burnt him, and he catches the telltale of freckles that disappear down his neck and towards his nape, underneath an inky blanket of dark curls.

And then he finally puts it on.

It hangs from his ear and swings softly back and forth, the breeze rocking the chain, which makes a sound akin to a flute when the wind passes through the openings, making Keith's surprised expression even more intense.

He's worked really hard on that earring, he has to admit.

Searched for the best Almandite he could find, and spent a week and a half processing the mineral so it's beautiful, fiery red color could rise to the surface and shine it's brightest. Then he'd worked non stop to give it the shape of a diamond and focused his attention on the chain, which he'd made from his own jewelry, melting some gold with Sinine's powers and crafting the piece with his own two hands.

It took another week to finish that, fuse them together, and add the finishing touches. But he'd persevered, and after many sleepless nights, burns on his hands, and tired vision that became blurry and fuzzy with each day that passed, he'd finished the gift. He'd been ecstatic and excited to give it to Keith, albeit also really nervous and on edge, not sure if it'd been the right thing to do, even when his mind screamed at him that _it was._

He knew, on one hand, that he'd wanted to make something for his human friend to thank him for all he'd done, all the things he'd taught him, the things he'd shared with him, the time they spent together that had diminished the loneliness inside his chest, his kindness.

But, on the other hand, there had been something almost intrinsic in the way his mind had come to the conclusion that Keith deserved a gift, the thought coming up naturally, flowing into his bloodstream uninvited but not unwelcome, urging his body to move and do something to be able to gaze at that tentative -but still breathtaking- smile.

And when he'd gotten to work on the earring, it had felt so _right_ , so common, like he'd finally been doing something long overdue, a task that he'd brushed off but was now finishing, and it felt so good, made him feel accomplished and his chest puff up with pride.

A pride that doubled as soon as Keith said he liked it. Not even ten seconds ago.

His hands come unbidden to his cheeks, holding them and feeling the burning that rivals the heat of the sun, his eyes shining with unshed tears that seem to come out of nowhere, although he can recognize that they stem from happiness, rather than sorrow.

"-ance? Lance?" He jumps a little, shoulders shaking slighty as he's startled out of his reverie by Keith's worried voice. He once again peeks at him through his eyelashes, and feels as though he's going to burst with all the joy he brims every time he sees Keith sporting his gift.

"I- I'm fine, no need to worry. Just...thinking." _About you, always about you._

"Oh, okay. Uh...actually, this may seem a bit weird, and I have to admit it's a curious coincidence but-" Keith turns and rummanges through the basket. "- I got something for you too. It's nothing fancy or anything, I'm poor as all hell." A high pitched laugh." But I still wanted to give it to you, as a sign of.....friendship." He gasps and eagerly leans forward. He can't believe he's going to receive something in return, it's like something out of those mushy stories Allura and her friends used to tell when they were younger.

The romantic, happily ever after ones.

His body moves on it's own and he sits closer to Keith, eyes wide and hands looking for purchase somewhere, which ends up being the fins of his own tail that's now curled near his chest, shaking with excitement. Keith moves slightly closer, too. He smells like the spice that Shay had shown him once, cinnamon, mixed with an earthy scent that speaks of hours upon hours of hard work in the fields, a task he knows is no easy feat.

Keith looks up and their eyes meet as he wordlessly hands over the small bag that contains his present, which he takes no time whatsoever in opening, becoming still and entranced, completely bewitched by the object inside.

"It's a....a circlet. I mean, I know probably only mermaids wear them but, I saw you always wear jewelry anyway and I thought, well-" He interrupts Keith with a whine unbecoming of a grown mer, trying not to drown in the sudden onslaught of emotions that threaten to break him apart and swallow his common sense until only the most basic of impulses remain.

And, right now, they are dying to hold Keith, and the intensity of that wish is enough to scare even him, with his outgoing personality and knack for trouble.

He's not sure of what he wants.

"It's ....perfect." And it is, it's silver with a blue gem in the middle, smaller ones swaying from the sides as they fall like tears. "Can you....can you place it for me? With my claws and my hair it's a bit complicated." He laughs, feeling silly for asking. But then Keith is reaching for the circlet and then Lance's own head, and his body freezes in place, feeling at the mercy of this human that smiles at him with such kindness.

Keith's fingers are warm as they brush his hair out of his wet forehead, and he has a minute to feel the sturdy pressure of the other's chest as it presses against his own, the closeness feeling stifling and new, but also comfortable and grounding. A weight settles over him like an anchor at sea, and he knows that whether he likes it or not, he's stranded, and Keith's the only solace for his bewitched heart.

The skin that brushes against his own is rough, callused and worn down from whatever work Keith does, but they still tread with such care and tenderness that he melts instantly, his shoulders drooping as he relaxes to the other's ministrations.

He only realizes he's closed his eyes when a breath close by, followed by a gasp, make him open them, and he comes face to face with Keith's wonderful blue eyes narrowed in concern.

"Lance....what happened? There's a bruise on your forehead." He hums in thought, tilting his head so Keith's palm is cradling his cheek, and remembers his encounter with Allura, and how he'd banged his head on the wall.

"Ah, it's nothing, bumped my head on the wall before coming, just a little accident, you know?" Keith furrows his brows but doesn't answer, his eyes laser focused on Lance's forehead before his fingers brush softly against the tender skin, making him flinch slightly.

But they don't stop, they tenderly run over the bruising with the utmost care, soothing an ache he didn't even notice he had and making his knitted brows relax, the sound of the waves feeling distant in the haze he finds himself in.

There's a small pressure on the crown of his head, and he assumes Keith has placed the circlet on him. A mirror would have come in handy for such a situation, shame he doesn't have one with him. But when he looks down and into Keith's shining amethysts, he thinks he doesn't need it, because he sees his silhouette reflected in the clear gaze that stares at him in wonder and affection.

And when Keith's hand cups his cheek and runs his thumb over the scales under his eye, the touch so fleeting and so everlasting at the same time, with his body so close and his scent shrouding his being and invading his senses and looking so earnest and lovely in the evening light he-

He does the thing his mind is screaming at him to do.

He leans forward -a nervous wreck inside and a shy, blushing mess outside- and with all the courage he can muster, holds Keith's hand on his own, trying to ignore the small, shaky gasp that escapes his friend's lips and the way he colors red from the proximity.

And then, before he can second guess himself, he shortens the distance between the both of them, and with a slight turn of his head, presses his lips against Keith's cheek, relishing in the warmth of soft skin and the way the other's fingers grip his own, squeezing softly.

He couldn't have kept the beaming smile off his face even if he'd tried.

\--

He feels like dying.

This wasn't meant to happen.

He wasn't supposed to get attached.

He has no time left.

...

Feeling like that is useless, though, because it's been months since they first met, and with every encounter his heart broke more and more, like a chisel had been chipping away the edges until it got to the core, leaving him uncovered and vulnerable.

He'd never thought that that small moment of weakness would be his downfall.

But it was.

It is.

When Lance had given him the earring, he hadn't known what to feel, how to react. He'd stared at the jewel, bright like fire and smooth like silk, and felt like someone had punched the breath out of his chest. He'd been mesmerized and entranced by the trinket, obviously home made and crafted with care, every edge rounded and the mineral polished until it shone a beautiful velvet.

His lips had moved before he'd even thought about it, and his mouth had spoken the words dancing on his mind, lodged on his throat and fighting to escape until they finally managed to do so, uttering a befuddled _'Beautiful'_ with a breathy gasp.

Nobody had ever gone so far and put so much thought and care into something meant for him, done solely with the purpose of making him happy and with his best interests in mind. Lance had listened when he'd told him that his favorite color was red, he'd listened when he mentioned that earrings were common to wear on his family, and he'd paid attention when he said that his birthday was coming soon.

He'd never felt so....loved, so cherished. Not since _he_ -.....not since a long time ago.

Lance looked at him like stars were twinkling in his eyes, like he was something ethereal and precious that was meant to be pampered and protected, something that had worth and value and was _important_.

And it made his chest burn with the heavy weight of the guilt he carried. It had come to a point that whenever he opened his mouth, he was scared a sob would escape and his words would come tumbling down his tongue, spilling his deepest, darkest secrets to this creature that looked at him with eyes so honest, and so earnest, he felt like he had no right to pose his own on him.

He'd never felt so dirty.

He'd thought that as time passed by, it would become easier.

He'd been a fool.

If _he_ saw him now, all smitten and on the edge of breakdown, he's sure he would laugh, scolding him for being so rash and acting without thinking, with just his instincts, anger, and stubbornness to guide his path.

But that was the thing, _he_ wasn't here.

And Keith was left alone to fend for himself and try to quench the loneliness and fear that came from being abandoned once more, the doubt and the uncertainty of a future of solitude suffocating him to the point of tears.

Tears of sorrow that quickly became frustration as he strived to regain what was lost, willing to go as far as needed to fulfill his wish and feel like the sunlight raining over him was actually doing something besides lighting up the earth.

He'd wanted to feel warmth once more.

But not like this.

He never wished for something like this.

Not the look of complete adoration that Lance gifted him with when he'd cupped his cheek in worry, neither the blush that airbrushed his cheeks and nose when he'd smiled at Keith or the awe-struck smile that had bloomed on his face when he'd placed the circlet on his head, his clear blue eyes gazing at him, and only him, with so much emotion it felt like his heart was going to burst.

And he'd definitely never wished for the warm, sweet kiss he'd received on the cheek when Lance had closed the distance between the two of them, holding his hand tenderly and intertwining their fingers, the fleeting press of his lips against his skin seeming to burn, leaving a mark that would be the proof of his sin, his weakness, his _failure_.

But even so.....even when he knows he doesn't deserve any of it....

He can't help the way his own fingers squeeze Lance's softly, or the shaky gasp that leaves his lips and the thunderous beating of his heart that seems to be drumming against his ribcage, the rapid staccato being almost painful as he struggles to take in any air.

The hand that sneaks around his waist comes out of nowhere, and a tiny yelp leaves him when cold skin brushes against his own, claws running gently up and down his side while Lance humms near his ear, the sound giving him goosebumps and making his already breathy voice even fainter.

He feels his chest being pressed against Lance's with more force, the hand that had been on his middle now resting on his lower back and holding him tightly inside Lance's arms, the hold comfortable and pleasant despite the obvious cold of Lance's body.

He can't even remember when was the last time someone hugged him.

Did he ever hug _him_ goodbye? Or had Keith been so mad he hadn't even done so? He can't remember, and it just makes him feel worse. He doesn't deserve to relish on the affection Lance is willing to give him, not when he let down the only person that meant something to him, refusing to understand the other's reasoning and his wish.

His hand still moves to embrace Lance right back, though, he's weak, he doesn't have the willpower to stop himself anymore. And no matter how much he knows he's going to regret this later, right now, he's not willing to move, he's happy to let the merman cradle him tight while his cheeks burn and he feels floaty and light.

Eventually, though, he has to leave. Reality is something no one can escape from, and his own is far more cruel that any other he knows, despite the fact that he'd chosen that path by himself.

He leans away from Lance slowly until the other takes the hint and releases his hold, scooting towards the right and leaving some space between them, which lets Keith sneak a glance upon the other's face.

He regrets it almost immediately.

Lance is....beaming, looking at him with pure adoration and affection, and the only reason he recognizes those emotions is because _he_ used to make that face whenever he talked about the future, a future in which Keith would no longer be present, a future with his loved one.

The merman's cheeks are dusted a light pink that clashes with the blue of his eyes and scales, and a tiny, sincere smile lits up his face like the morning star, the brightest of them all. His eyes are half lidded while his hands gently touch the circlet, and his tail swishes right and left in a loop, creating small waves that fill in the silence.

He wonders if he's making the same face. He hopes to god he's not.

"Hey Lance, I- I'm sorry to cut this short, but, I have to.....leave." He hears a whine and watches as a pout twists Lance's features into something adorable, his eyes screaming at Keith not to leave, to prolong this moment in which they bonded and started the beginning of what could be something.... _more_.

But he can't do it. He's gonna be sick, or cry, or make an angry, disgusting face that will tip Lance off that something is wrong and reveal his true nature; aloof, loner, selfish, awkward, doesn't like to talk, doesn't smile often, is quiet and somber and is always, _always_ angry.

He's sure that Lance would want nothing to do with someone like that, he's convinced that his affection and care are only for this....fake version of himself that he struggles to keep on in their meetings, and that it would all disappear as soon as his true face was revealed.

It hurts more than he imagined it would.

"I know we were supposed to eat this food I brought and...stuff, but I forgot my workshop- you know, the one that I made that circlet in- and it's a mess and- and needs cleaning and- yeah." Lance snorts, a whistle echoing around them as he chuckles, seeming amused by what he just said. Or maybe by how awkward and uncomfortable he's been while saying it.

"It's fine, Keith, I don't mind. I know you're busy, you don't need to find an excuse to leave, just tell me that there's things you need to take care of. I'll understand." He looks to the floor, ashamed that Lance has discovered he was lying, and even more when he's so understanding and patient with him.

"Lets meet again soon, yeah? I- I'll miss you, and I can't wait to see you again. You're.....important to me, Keith, and I want to talk to you about it....when you're ready." He gulps and averts his gaze, completely overtaken by a sudden, foreign fear.

And it's stupid, because he's _so close_ , he's where he wanted to be but-....but now that he's arrived at the finish line, he wishes for nothing more than to give up, leave everything behind, and hold the hand that tenderly caresses his knuckles and kisses his fingertips with reverence and fondness.

He's going to pay for this. He knows it. He's already doing it.

"I....I'll miss you too." The worst part is, it's not a lie. He's come to enjoy their meetings and Lance's presence, his jokes, his touch, the sound of his voice, the warmth of his body. He used to love being alone, cherished the silence. Now he wants nothing more than to fill it with the sweet dulcet tone of Lance's singing and his laugh, always looking forward to feel him near.

"But I really need to go, there's some things I need to take care of. Sorry." Lance leans forward and rests his forehead on his own, their breaths mingling in their proximity as the merman caresses his cheek, a chirp leaving his lips before he moves downward, nuzzling his cheek against Keith's neck, a hum that echoes like a purr making chills run down his spine.

"Okay, I'll be going then, see you soon Keith." He's still not over the way Lance pronounces his name, and has to fight down the shudder that tries to rake his body every time the other says it.

And then Lance is pressing a small kiss to his cheek again before diving into the water with a softly-spoken _'goodbye'_ , and he's left there sitting on the picnic mat, frozen and unsure of anything, with a scream lodged in his throat and a frown ready to twist his face into a scowl, his fists clenched to the point of hurting and lip bleeding from where he's bitten it through.

"Please.....please don't hate me." He whispers, knowing no one can hear. And begs for a forgiveness he knows he does not deserve, but hopes to receive anyway, his selfish heart too much of a coward to be able to deal with the alternative.

He gingerly touches the earring, feeling like it's weight is crushing him.

"I have no choice."

\--

He's nearing his house, swimming through the clearing nearby with a giddy feeling swirling inside his chest, his heart beating too fast and seeming to want to leap out of his ribcage. He knows he's probably smiling like an idiot and blushing like a surmullet, but it's not like he can help it, he..... _he kissed Keith_.

He'd touched his skin and caressed his face and Keith hadn't recoiled, hadn't run away, hadn't _rejected him_. His friend had just let out breathy sighs and held him back, the sounds leaving his lips pleasing his inner voice, who had relished in the contact and the closeness, asking for _more_.

He can't believe whats happening, it feels surreal, he's never felt like this for anyone before, never wanted to hold someone's hand so strongly, or worship every inch of skin with his lips or speak words of adoration and endearment and be privy to every reaction he gets after.

It's new and exciting, terrifying, and he loves it.

He expects to enter his house, throw himself onto the bed, and squeal like a youngling to try and slow the rapid beating of his heart and deepen his swallow breaths, calm his nerves and run over everything that's happened in the last few months.

But what he finds, instead, is a smirking and smug Allura, sitting on his bed, snorting as she looks at his face and sends a side glance towards the frozen flowers on the shelf.

Well, he's pretty much screwed.

"Laaaa-nce." She says his name in a sing-song voice, playfully swatting at his forearm when she gets closer, looking him up and down before her eyes land on his head, most likely on the circlet sitting proudly admist his hair. "Well, well, it seems someone received a nice...gift today, am I right?" He feels himself blush, hating how it gives his feelings away and makes his sister beam and laugh, her eyes tearing up in mirth while she sneaks her arms around his shoulders, hugging him tight to her chest.

"Oh, Lance, I'm so happy for you. I can't believe my baby brother is being courted -he freezes- I'm so glad you've found someone that loves you so much, you deserve it." His voice is gone and he can't even utter a single sound, the only noise he hears being the loud thump of his own heartbeat as it pounds against his chest, inexplicably loud and deafening.

"What- what do you mean cou- courting? That's not, that's-" His face burns and he panics, breaths swallow as he tries to calm the sudden bout of anxiety and excitement that leave him a trembling, shuddering mess that can't even think, can't process.

"Oh _please_ , don't try and hide it from me. It's pretty obvious, isn't it?" He blinks, a confused whine making Allura chuckle. " Remember that day that you offhandedly mentioned that you've tasted some new food? That someone had given it to you?" He nods. " That was the first clue. Merfolk are really, really picky with what they eat, you know this, and I know you only eat either what Katie, Hunk or I give you, or whatever you catch by yourself." He nods again, and feels as though he knows where she's going with this, but also doesn't.

"Then there was the flowers. The day you came back from one of your trips, you had a flower in your hair, you were smiling like a lovestruck fool, and you went through all the trouble to encase them in ice so they wouldn't wither. It's obvious they are important, or the person who gave them to you is." He feels his blush rise to the tip of his ears, and tries to burrow his face on Allura's neck, not willing to face this embarrassing analysis of his love life.

"And then there is today, when you come home with a piece of outstanding jewelry, with your face sporting one of the most beautiful smiles I have ever seen, your eyes twinkling with excitement and love, a look I know too well." He whines, not wanting to listen anymore, because he can't believe he'd been- he just- he hadn't even noticed-

"It's evident that whoever this person is, has been trying to court you following the usual steps, and I can't believe you didn't notice, brother. First comes sharing sustenance and showing you can provide food for your special someone, then bestowing flowers that rival your interested's beauty and appeal to their likes, showing them that you know their preferences and pay attention when they speak." He shakes in his sister's hold, overwhelmed by things he should have known, but had somehow forgotten.

"And the last step, offering a gift to the other, normally a piece of jewelry or similar that compliments their features, usually hand-made and showing that you're willing to work hard, put effort into the relationship and offer everything you can give." He watches as Allura touches the small pink necklace on her neck with a melancholy that does not suit her features, a sadness so deep etched on her face it makes him want to cry.

"If the piece of jewelry is put on, it means the affection is accepted and returned, and both parties can move forward to the next step, which is knowing each other better and deepen their bond, usually ending in sharing a house and eventually an union." The sharp intake of air he does hurts his lungs, and he feels on the verge of crying because-

"Oh my Goddess." Oh goodness gracious, Keith has been courting him and _he's been courting Keith._

Now everything makes sense.

Why he loved sharing food with him and was always pleased when Keith brough him more, why he felt the burning need to give him some flowers in return for his own, looking for ones that could rival his beauty.

Why his instincts went haywire afterwards and screamed at him to give him something, a gift, something he'd made himself that Keith would like, something just as pretty as him, on his favorite color, made only _for him_.

They have been going back and forth for a while, and his inner voice grew more and more pleased with each meeting, but nothing could compare to the utter delight he'd felt when Keith had worn his earring and placed the circlet on Lance's head.

It had felt like a void being filled, like he'd reached completion, and that had been the moment when he'd been overwhelmed with love and happiness and gave Keith a kiss.

Everything made sense now, and he couldn't stop the chirp that escaped his lips, embarrassingly high and flustered as he realizes they practically confessed, following the ancestral ritual for courting that Merfolk practice since ancient times.

Which he never explained to Keith.

His excitement dies like a flame being extinguished, sudden and quick, and he feels as though he's going to cry, for very different reasons this time. All of this means nothing if Keith doesn't understand what he's done, if he doesn't know what his actions entail. And although there's the possibility that he does, indeed, know, he cannot be sure of it, and the doubt gnawing at his mind is driving him crazy.

And it's just been minutes since he's found out.

Goddess, he doesn't know if he can deal with this. But he also doesn't know if he has enough courage to ask Keith about it. He doesn't think he will be able to take a negative, his heart won't be able to handle it.

His mood sours as quick as the tide raises, and he feels himself frown before he can stop it, mouth upturned and tail curled tight. Which is joined by another one that entwines with his own, comforting and familiar, offering unconditional support.

"So, who is the lucky one? Someone I know?" He blanks for a minute, unable to answer her, knowing that he can't tell her the truth no matter what. She will never approve.

"Uh...no, actually. I....I met him in one of my travels, he's- he comes from far away lands, from some other tribe, and we- we hit it off pretty well and met more after and then- I just-" She shushes him, nimble fingers carding through his hair in a soothing manner.

"Calm down, Lance, what is it that worries you? Does he not reciprocate?" He shakes his head, although he doesn't know the answer, but he's too anxious and scared to think about that, he just wants some reassurance that he hadn't made a fool out of himself.

"No I- I don't know. We- I didn't even notice we were- " he clears his throat- "..courting. He's from another tribe, what if- what if it means nothing? What if he did those things just because we're friends? Maybe their customs are different and- and stuff. I mean, we exchanged presents but-" He feels himself tear up, and doesn't have the strength to even feel ashamed.

"But....maybe he doesn't see me that way...if he doesn't know what the ritual means....it- it might have been just me pouring my feelings into it and- and maybe he was just being nice- maybe he doesn't even know......Allura....what do I do?" His sister cups his cheeks and brushes his tears away, smiling sadly at him.

"Listen, Guppy -he nearly laughs at the old pet name- in all my years of life, I've come to the conclusion that, no matter what species, the act of giving flowers and exchanging presents is universal, and it means the same for everyone." She brushes his hair back and tugs him down until he's sitting before her, her fingers running through his bangs as she begins to braid his hair.

"If it was just sharing food alone, that could be seen as an act of friendship, and even the flowers could be included if you want to reach that far. Those actions on their own, and made depending of the situation, could very well mean nothing, like flowers for your birthday or a present for your coming of age." He nods, sniffing pitifully as he listens intently to her.

"But from what you've told me, you've met this person multiple times, and they've shared food with you, gifted you flowers, and gave you a present made of silver and ore that compliment your eyes to perfection. If that is not love, or, at the very least, affection or romantic feelings, then I do not know what is." He feels the tension leave his shoulders as he listens to her reasoning, but, while it's true that you wouldn't usually gift flowers to a friend, he cannot help but doubt and worry, wonder if he might have been wrong in his assumptions.

"Stop worrying, Guppy, I-....look, I once met a human -before all this...situation came to happen- that knew nothing about the courting rituals, but still gave flowers to the mermaid he fell for, shared his food with her and gifted her beautiful presents that melted her heart and made her feel alive and treasured." He stills, heart in his throat at the sorrowful, disheartened tone of her voice, a weak chirp leaving her lips as she sighs from behind him, her hands stilling for a second before continuing their work.

"It's not about species or different cultures, Guppy, if those actions were made with care and love, only thinking about you and your happiness, then, the significance is the same, no matter what knowledge that person might lack. Do both of you find pleasure in talking with each other? -he nods yes- Does he listen to you? -another nod- Does he make you laugh and feel joy when you're together? Does he seem happy when he's with you? Does he smile, laugh? Does he speak about his life and likes listening to your own tales? Do his eyes never stray away from you?" He breathes deeply through his gills and nods once more.

"Then, Lance, you have your answer. Heed my advice, don't let this chance pass because you're scared, take the risk and make a bet, the worst that could happen would be a no, and you could still be friends. Do not pass the oportunity of being happy because doubt hinders you, this could be the beginning of something great, you just have to be brave." He turns around and hugs Allura, hiding his face on her middle as she chuckles and ties the braid with something, patting the crown of his head tenderly, the motions familiar and soothing.

"Thank you, Ally, I- I think he does- you know, reciprocate, I just- I didn't know if I was reading too much into it or-or being silly or something. But you're right, I can't let this pass me by, I- I'll try and be brave. Next time I see him, I will tell him." She chirps and whistles, the sound reverberates around them and makes him call out in return as he nuzzles her waist and snickers when her hair tickles his nose.

"It will be fine, Guppy, you'll see. I'm proud of you. Now, let go of me before the younglings come and invade this house, I promised I would play with them after the mid-morning snack, and it's about time I go back." He smiles and kisses her cheek before letting go, feeling lighter now that he's talked with someone about the problem he didn't even know he had.

He smothers the guilt that comes with knowing that he's lying to her about his.... _lucky one_ and his race, but he supposes she will forgive him if they get together and she sees just how happy Keith makes him.

"See you later, 'llura." She waves as she goes out, and he doesn't miss the way she touches the pendant on her neck once more or the way her fingers reach for her hair as if looking for something that's no longer there. The sight that escapes her lips after feels more heavy than any of the rocks that form the walls of his house, and he wonders, for a second, if she had been talking about herself, before, and just how heartbroken she really was.

But he knows nothing about that story, that part of her life, and as much as he wants to find out and comfort her, he know she will say nothing. Not because she doesn't trust him, but because she doesn't want to hurt him, and maybe, just maybe, her dislike and wariness for the surface and it's people stems for something far more painful that he could ever imagined.

He just hopes the same unhappy fate does not befall him.

He prays it doesn't.

He can't wait to see Keith again.

He's taken a decision. Next time, he will tell him. He will convey just how much his heart aches for him, and give him his heart in a silver platter -in more ways that one.

He wishes that's not a mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun facts!!
> 
> Languaje of flowers:  
> \- Cyclamen: a request for forgiveness, resignation.  
> \- Oleanders: Beauty, grace.  
> \- Anemones: Persistance, perseverance.  
> \- Snapdragons: Presumption, deception.  
> \- Marigolds: Innocence.


	3. The gift (The fake)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaand another update!! Here is were shit its the fan, so get ready for the pain *laughs* For those that had the privilege of already watching S6, please, please don't spoil it for me! I won't be able to watch it until tomorrow ):
> 
> Anyway, enjoy this chapter in which some questions are answered, Keith realizes some things, and the plot begins to show it's face, albeit slowly. Next chapter is the resolution, and the next after the ending, with which i hope to make you cry a little ;)
> 
> Thanks to anyone that commented, suscribed, bookmarked, left kudos or just took the time to read! You're the best, all of you! 
> 
> Bye by. <3

* * *

Today is _the day._

Today, he's meeting Keith on the small creek where they first saw each other, and he will finally tell him how he feels. His body thrumms with anticipation and nerves, and there are a few times when he's sure he's going to puke, but the nausea eventually recedes when he remembers Keith's smile and the way he held onto Lance when they swapped presents.

It fills him with joy every time.

He twirls around and glances at his reflection in the mirror, nodding in satisfaction when he likes what he sees. He's wearing Keith's circlet among many other pieces of jewelry he owns, and he's painted his tribe's traditional markings on his shoulders, chest and belly with that blue color that matches the one of Keith's gift.

He's decided to put some on his eyes, too, per Allura's suggestion, and the result is quite good, if he says so himself. He has his bag with him, filled with trinkets, some food, and one of Keith's frozen flowers that he's taken for reassurance, to remind himself that he'd been given flowers and they weren't just a product of his imagination.

He wanted them to give him courage.

And they do, to some extent. He pictures the way Keith smiled at him when he gave them to Lance, and how beautiful and ethereal his friend had looked when flowers fell from his hands and rained onto him, the sun highlighting Keith's features in a scene that was forever ingrained into his mind.

He thinks that's when he fell in _love_.

But maybe he'd been falling all along and hadn't noticed, just like he didn't notice the courting, he admits he's not the best when it comes to reading emotion, but he's trying.

He gently runs his fingers through a frozen petal, and sighs softly, steeling himself for what he's about to do, the good and bad and all possible outcomes swirling inside his mind as he tries to see what side the balance will tip to.

A light smack to the back of his head scatters his musings, though, and Allura stands behind him, clearly frustrated -albeit it's with a fond look in her eyes- , twisting her tail behind herself after she's smacked him with it, which, _rude_.

"Lance, stop thinking so much, you're going to make yourself anxious if you continue like this." He wants to tell her that she's too late for that, that he's been a nervous, jittery mess since a week ago, when he'd resolved to tell Keith how he feels.

But he doesn't, he whines, instead, like a good little brother does.

"Alluraaa, I can't help it! I can't stop thinking of the _'what ifs'_ and all the things that could go wrong and- what if I just misread the signs? I'll make a fool out of myself!" Before he can continue his self-induced panic attack, however, hands pinch both his cheeks and tug until he's begging for release, worrying that there's going to be marks and he'll look like an idiot in front of Keith.

"Listen, Lance, I will say this just _once_. You're one of the most kind, selfless, honest, beautiful people I know, anybody would be lucky to love you and have you love them back, and I know you trust your instincts to guide you on a daily basis, and they've never been wrong. This time is no different, you need to believe in yourself, I know you can do it." He looks into her eyes, looking for any sign of lies or deception, and finds none. She really believes that he has a chance, that he's worthy and pretty and deserves to be loved, that the possibility of the other part not returning his feelings is preposterous and unthinkable.

She thinks too highly of him. He tells her as much.

"I'm not telling you this because I'm your sister, I'm just saying what I see." She smiles, soft and sweet, her face the very image of fondness. " And what I see is a hardworking young mer who is smart, talented, sweet, caring, brave, and ready to face his fears in pos of a brighter future." He's tearing up again, but refuses to cry, he needs to stop being such a cry-baby and face his problems like an adult, which is what he is.

Whatever happens _will_ happen, and he'll deal with the consequences accordingly. Whether be that Keith won't talk to him again or that they'll just continue being friends, he'll embrace whatever fate befalls him with pride and his head held high, because that's the path he's chosen, and he'll follow it till the end.

"Thanks, Allura, I know I'm a handful sometimes, but I needed that. Thanks for looking out for me." She hugs him and wishes him luck, and he utters a small _'see you later'_ as he swipes his tail with force and propels himself towards the creek, the distance feeling much larger than before even when he knows it's just one village over.

On his way there, he takes in the beauty of his home, and everything that surrounds him, and wonders what Keith would say if he saw it, if he saw the rainbow colored corals or the mimetic flowers, the ever-changing kelp forests, the color-changing fish, the singing whales and the random patterned rock caves that change motif every day.

He wishes to show him sometime.

Maybe he will, if everything goes right.

He turns the next corner, dives below the whistling caves and between the coral reefs and emerges, cautious like always but eager, too, looking left and right until his eyes land on the hunched figure sitting on the slab of rock far away from the shore.

It's like a deja vu.

Keith is sitting with his legs curled and pressed against his chest, and his hands grip his hair in a way that looks painful and tight, his knuckles white from the force. His face is in between his knees, and from where he is, he can see nothing but a wild mop of midnight hair, the eyes he adores trained on the ground and shadowed by Keith's bangs.

Ir brings back memories to the day they met, and how sad and utterly defeated Keith had seemed. It wasn't a pretty picture back then, and it isn't now, so he does what he knows best and spouts whatever nonsense comes to his mind as he swims closer.

It just so happens to be that he says the exact same thing he did on that day.

"Hey, you come here often?" That seems to do the trick, and Keith looks up, startled. Their eyes meet, and after a shocked and befuddled look passes the other's features, the edge of his mouth tilts upwards, and then Keith's laughing, clutching his belly and fighting for breath.

And Lance feels like he's just accomplished something, his chest warms and his heart speeds up and his face mirrors the mirth on Keith's pale one. The sound of his chuckles are like melodies to his ears and his amethyst eyes twinkle with joy while the sun reflects on them. It makes every freckle stand out like a treasure map that he wants to unravel and his hands itch to hold him close and never let go, caress his face and intertwine their fingers and kiss those lips and-

And he knows, right then, without doubt, that he loves him.

It doesn't feel as much as a realization but rather an admittance.

"God, Lance, don't do that to me. You scared me shitless. Also, what was that? You trying your original pick up line to see if it works this time?" Keith raises an eyebrow and smirks, his face the epitome of smug even though Lance spies some shadows on his otherwise clear eyes, like something is haunting him, worrying him.

Sometimes he wishes Keith would rely on him more.

"Oh, c'mon, the timing was perfect, and I got a laugh out of you, so I count it as a win." Keith chuckles and shakes his head, his bangs going everywhere and giving him a disheveled look.

"Sure, if that lets you sleep at night." He makes and offended noise and splashes some water onto Keith, who ducks out of the way with a yelp, glaring holes at Lance before he retaliates, even tough he knows water does nothing to him. He still humors him, though, because the childish, satisfied look Keith gets when he thinks he's annoying Lance is too endearing not to, and the worry that seems to haunt his friend seems to diminish when he's occupied with other things.

They have to stop eventually, though, and that's when Keith asks him what he wants to do for the day. And he blanks and panics because he's thought nothing, he's been too worried to even think about anything, let alone _date plans_.

"If you have nothing scheduled -which is perfectly fine- can we just...stay here? This place is... nice." Keith says, voice wistful and melancholic. "I can....I don't know....braid your hair or something? We don't have to do anything, just....spending time with you...together...is really great." The last words are but a whisper, and his heart seems to want to burst out of his chest, even moreso when Keith's fingers run through his matted tresses and begin trying to braid it, careful of the circlet that sits proudly on the crown of his head.

The minutes pass in silence, with just the occasional song from him and Keith's humms and sighs filling it. He can feel his hands beginning to fidget under the surface and the words rising in his throat, begging to be left out, screaming for release.

It just takes a few words from Keith to set them free.

"I wish....I wish this could last forever." The words are so soft spoken he nearly misses them. But he doesn't, and he turns towards Keith as fast as lightning and holds his hands on his own, leaning close to him and looking deep into his eyes, trying to convey his feelings.

And then the words flow like a flood, uncontrolled and wild, and he can do nothing to stop them, he doesn't think he wants to.

"Keith I- I like you. I really, really like you. I like spending time with you, talking with you, holding your hands and - and being together. I love it when you laugh and when you make _me_ laugh, I love the sound of your voice and the stories you tell, I love the things you teach me and the gifts you gave me. I love your scarred skin and the color of your eyes and the way you pout when things don't go your way and- and I want to know _more_." He stops momentarily for a breath, watching Keith's expression, wich is, for lack of a better word, heartbroken.

He's a bit discouraged by that, but remembers his sister's words and strives on. _Courage, Lance._ " I want to know what you work as, what your favorite animal is, where you live and where your family is at. I want to know how your childhood was and who you met, the places you've visited and the sights you've seen. I want to know your fears and worries and soothe them all, I want to know your hopes and dreams and make them a reality."

"I want to know _you_ , Keith. Everything about you. I want to know who you are, and-" He takes in a deep breath, and tries to put all that he's feeling into his words."-and I want to stay with you, if you'd let me." He stops and waits for something, anything that tells him he just didn't mess up the best thing that's happened to him in a long time.

But nothing comes, and he's scared that he's going to look up, and see that Keith is no longer there, that he left because Lance has burdened him with his own feelings, making the other uncomfortable. So he keeps his eyes focused on his own hands, and tries to swallow the tears that threaten to escape his eyes.

He fails to do so.

\--

He feels like he's fallen into the deepest realm of hell while being in heaven at the same time, if that's even possible. He's stuck watching Lance, completely enraptured by his previous words as they repeat in a loop inside his mind, leaving him breathless and more broken that he'd ever thought possible.

This is like a dream come true, like he's finally achieved something that seemed impossible and unattainable, and he should feel happy, he should be ecstatic. Instead, he only feels a dread as deep as the sea and a shame so overwhelming it might as well be a part of him now. It makes him clench his fists and bit his lip, makes his eyes water and his chest stutter with silent apologies that will never leave his throat.

Not _yet_ , at least.

He wonders, for the last time before he continues forward, if it's still possible to throw everything away and forget what he was meant to do, if he can just say _'fuck it'_ and reach for the hand trying to hold his own. If he can be embraced by those arms and be shrouded in the genuine affection that Lance is professing and disregard everything that led him to this place.

How he wishes he could forget, sometimes.

But reality is cruel, he does not forget, neither does he give up.

And even when it breaks his heart and a part of him screams not to do it, even when he feels like dying or running away from the problems he's caused for himself, he won't do it. He's many things, but he's never been a quitter, and he's always followed the path he's made for himself, even when that same path led only to desperation and regret.

Self-destruction.

So he gathers all the determination he can muster, looks down at Lance who is still averting his gaze, and with a voice so soft and loving he didn't know he possessed, he says the words that will bring him happiness and sorrow at the same time.

"Lance....I-...I really like you too." It's nothing but the truth, but it hurts all the same, so, so much. " You've been the only thing keeping me sane after-.....after I lost the only person that mattered to me. I was always angry, always lonely, I couldn't eat or sleep and I didn't know what to do with myself, I was sad and lost and couldn't find my way." Lance slowly raises his head, teary eyes and rosy cheeks making his voice stuck in his throat, his beauty so radiant it blinds him everytime.

"You comforted me when we first met, and your words gave me the courage I needed to keep moving forward. You made me laugh and kept me company throughout the weeks. You made it easier to bear, the fact that I was alone, and I began to really enjoy our....dates." Lance blushes even more, if that's possible, and a small, hopeful smile begins to bloom on his face, still stunning despite the tears that run down his cheeks and his red nose, the joy on his striking blue eyes dazzling and sincere.

It _hurts_.

" You lifted my spirits when I felt down and filled my days with joy, you made me forget about the bad things and gave me something to look forward to, a reason to keep going. You became such an essential part of my life that I couldn't think of a world without you. I.....I want to be with you, too." He's barely finished speaking when Lance throws himself at him, sneaking his arms around his chest and nuzzling his neck, chirping in a sweet voice as he mutters words he cannot understand

"Oh my Goddess, I can't believe you like me too. You.....you like me!" He laughs despite himself, finding Lance's disbelief adorable even in this situation, reaching his hands to hold the merman back and brush his hair away, the tresses covering both of them like a blanket.

He relishes on the moment for as long as he can, squeezing Lance as close to him as possible. He takes in the scent of salt and flowers as he runs his fingers through his hair, the smoothness of his skin and roughness of his scales as he rests his cheek on his, the rapid beating of his heart as their chests touch, and his trembling fingers as he intertwines them.

He takes in his blue eyes, swimming with a myriad of hues he can't make out, takes in the blush scattered throughout his cheeks and nose, his long lashes and the slope of his nose and-

And the softness of his lips as Lance leans in and kisses him.

It's short, and sweet, and it hurts like a dagger straight through the heart.

He can't continue like this. It's time.

He slowly leans away from Lance, gingerly touching his lips and trying not to cry, sideglancing the merman who looks happier than ever before, shyly cupping his cheeks as he beams.

He hates that he has to do this, but hesitation will bring him nowhere. It's too late now.

"Hey, Lance?" The merman chirps and looks at him, his enamoured expression burning itself on Keith's mind. "I-....do you remember last time, when I asked you to come with me to the garden?" Lance nods. "I....there's a special place close by, I...it means a lot to me, and I would like to show you if....if you'd let me. It doesn't have to be today but...." He swallows and takes in the deepest breath he can muster, his nails digging into his fists as he forces himself to speak.

It physically pains him.

"I know you need to think about this because it's something...big, permanent, but.....Do you feel like taking this next step with me?" The blue shine of the circlet blinds him for a moment, and he has to cover his eyes until it fades, finally letting him see Lance, who is staring ahead as if in a trance.

But it doesn't last long, the merman laughs, loud and boisterous, and reaches forward to capture his hands, kissing his knuckles and the inside of his wrist before looking him in the eye.

"Of course I want to. I't a big decision, yeah, but I've always known that my destiny lay on the surface, I always felt some kind of...pull, towards it. Maybe it was leading me to my fate, maybe it lead me to _you_." Lance smiles at him, and he feels like if this goes on much longer, he's going to die. " And I want to know where this path takes both of us, _together_. I want to hold you without having to be so close to the water, and curl my legs with yours. I want to sit on your lap and read human books with you without worrying that I'll ruin them with my claws and damp skin. Although for that -he chuckles- I'll have to learn how to read first."

"Anyway, what I mean is- I want to be with you, and although it should be scary that I'm going to leave everything behind and change into something I don't understand.....I'm not scared at all. Because as long as I'm with you, nothing seems impossible." Lance lets go of him slowly, their fingers brushing as he leans backwards and drops into the water. His hair swirls around him as he dips lower beneath the surface, and his blue scales seem to shine and pulsate with light as a chant that reverberates like a song echoes in his ears.

The ocean waters fill with light and specks of glitter than make it seem ethereal and otherworldly, and even though the surface is calm everywhere else, waves begin to crash and whirl around the place Lance has sunk. It takes barely a minute, maybe even less, but it feels like hours until the top of Lance's head finally peeks from under the water, his hair still as long and covering his body as he slowly, carefully, makes his way over Keith with his new legs.

Legs that go on for miles, he notices, as he follows the ends of Lance's hair that reaches his ankles and up towards his face, seeing the lack of scales on his skin and the circlet still on his head.

The merman -now turned human- walks towards him, staggering and wobbling slightly, completely naked for the world to see save from the long, brunette hair that falls over him like a curtain and covers most of his body.

Lance reaches where he's sitting and plops down like his legs are made of jelly, looking up at him with excitement and joy as he sits, his gaze going down to his newly acquired legs as he touches the skin and wiggles his toes, giggling -most probably like- at the feeling.

"I have legs now. Wow, having feet is....strange, I can't find my balance and it feels like I'm going to fall down any second, my scales are gone too....." A sad look seems to cross the merman's face, and he has a second to feel guilty before the other's cheery voice snaps him out of it. "You're going to have to help me if we want to go somewhere, teach me how to stand on my own and stuff, this is all new to me." He seems abashed, shy and hesitant like he's embarrassed by his inability to walk or move fluidly.

Keith would have loved nothing more than to comfort him, show him how to use his new legs, maybe teach him how to dance and practice some of them together or run at sunrise on the beach to relax and make exercise. He could teach him how to fight, improve his footwork to evade attacks and retaliate with kicks, something he knows Lance could do easily, given his height and the length of his legs.

There's many things he wishes he could've done in that moment and many that would have followed afterwards, but, as always, he choses the easy way, the cowards' path, and does the complete opposite.

"It's okay, for today, I think you deserve to be pampered a little. I can carry you, as soon as we get some clothes on you." He says, and watches out for Lance's reaction, which is a simple glance at his nakedness and a shrug, not a trace of shame or discomfort on his features, something that makes sense since he'd been a merman before, and the concept of modesty means nothing to him.

It takes some time to find something he can use as cloth to cover Lance, but eventually, he manages to tie the picnic sheet around him in a way that resembles a robe, and, after braiding his hair so it doesn't get in the way, he wounds his arms under Lance's legs and around his back, and heaves him up, surprised at how light he is.

The other is giggling non stop while he does this, but he can't share his joy, no matter how hard he tries. He's tired, so, so tired of everything, he just wants to rest, for this to be over. Every second that passes is another stab into his heart and more guilt that continues to pile over until it feels like he's going to burst.

But he keeps going, holds on. He's _so close._

He walks uninterrupted, one foot in front of the other while Lance babbles continuously, chatting about what he sees, asking questions about the things he doesn't understand, explaining to him the differences between both worlds and freezing a little when he does so.

It's like every time he speaks about his home or family, his eyes go blank as his voice stutters and fades, leaving him mid-phrase and looking at nothing before he seems to come back to himself, shaking his head and smiling once more as he continues the retelling of something that happened in his past.

He knows the reason.

He says nothing.

He just walks like a man on death row, like a prisoner going to the gallows, dreading the distance as it shortens more and more, and ,soon, petals begin to rain over them as their sweet smell shrouds him.

Any other time, it would have been comforting and calming.

Right now, it's sickening and horrible.

He walks past the threshold and the iron fence, ducking under bushes and trees hanging low until he sees the garden, just as beautiful as he remembers, with vivid colors surrounding him on all sides and the rustling of the leaves singing a lullaby for him when the breeze blows.

He sets Lance down carefully and watches as the other glances around in awe, doing a small twirl and letting out a sight, his wobbly legs carrying him all the way to a rose bush while his fingers reach to touch the soft petals. He caresses them and then leans close to smell them, and the smile that lits up his face is the last straw.

He feels his frown appear full force and his mouth upturn in anger, fangs digging into his lower lip while he glances around for a sign that tells him it's time.

"Keith! This place is wonderful! Is this where you took my flowers from?" Lance asks as he looks around, humming a little tune and touching anything he can reach.

"Yeah, this....this is my family's garden. We used to take care of the flowers together, but, after people kept on leaving and it was just me in the end.....I stopped coming, and the plants thrived and kept on living, they grew and became this...untamed, wild thing you see now." He remembers his mother's laugh as she tended to the flowers, and the way his father would try to scare her from behind, only for her to notice his presence and sweep him off his feet -literally- eliciting laughs from the man while he swooned in an exaggerated way.

Those memories are a treasure to him, and he prays to god he never forgets.

It's one of the few good things he has left.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the past, he glances around once more, taking in the multitude of flowers and bushes around him, overgrown and untouched ever since.....since a long time ago. He looks for what he knows is the end of the line for him, the culmination of all his efforts, and it's not long before he gets what he wants.

From the corner of his eye, he spies something shiny that reflects the sun's rays through one of the shrubs, the metallic gleam glaring strongly at him.

He feels himself freeze.

His eyes automatically seek Lance.

The other, oblivious to anything, continues enjoying the flowers and his new legs with a childish joy that lits up his face and widens his smile, his braided hair swinging around as he moves, fluid and agile, like he's still in the water.

The merman looks up from the rose bush he's sniffing, and directs the most radiant grin up at him, cheeks flushed and eyes twinkling with excitement and glee, dimples on the corner of his mouth as he laughs, free of any burden.

He envies him, sometimes. To be so carefree, living a life without worries or pain.

He covers his face with his hands, groaning and cursing under his breath, and rises his right hand up in the air, almost like he's going to wave at Lance, but what he does, instead, is a sign only known by a few, staying still for a few seconds as he awaits for what he knows is coming.

The sound of clinking metal echoes around the clearing not even a second after as the knights surround them, their shields and swords pointed towards them while he stays still, gaze trained on the floor as if weighted down by the shame.

Lance shrieks, and he bits his lip to stop himself from screaming, too.

"Keith! Who- who are these people? What's happening? _Keith!_ " Lance's voice sounds terrified and anxious, but he does not dare look up, he knows if he sees his face, he will lose what little resolve he still has, and he can't afford to do that.

"Keith! _Keith_ help me! What is- hey let me go! What do you think you're doing? You- let go-!" The sound of something metallic falling to the ground startles him, and as a stifling silence shrouds them, he begins to shake, dreading the worst, praying that what he thinks might have happened, didn't happen, that he doesn't have to deal with that on top of everything else.

He doesn't have such luck.

He hears a deep intake of breath, so harsh it sounds like it hurts, and then a gasp, followed by a distressed noise that makes him shiver and curl his arms around himself.

"Keith.....? What-....?" He still doesn't look up, still a coward even after everything." What am I doing here....? Why....why am I _human_? I-.....what's going on!?" His distressed voice pitches higher and higher, more frantic and pained.

" I- I cant be here! I can't be _human_! I need to go back _home_! _Why_ is this happening? What- _Keith!_!" The desperation in his voice is almost tangible, the sounds of his struggles and pained cries filling his ears. It makes him want to cover them so he can ignore everything that's happening around him, bus his fists are clenched so tight around his own chest that that feat is almost impossible.

There's a second of deathly, blissful silence, the sounds of nature seeming to die as a hollow atmosphere takes over the clearing, and he's only aware of his own breaths, short and controlled, his own way of keeping calm.

"....Keith?" Lance's voice is but a whisper, and he only hears it because of the stillness of the moment, but the heartbreak in his tone is evident and agonising to listen to, enough to warrant that he rises his gaze, albeit only a few inches. Just enough to land upon the merman's feet, at which the crown that he's gifted him rests, abandoned and dull, it's blue shine dead after it's purpose has been accomplished.

"Keith.... _please_..." There's a sob there, and he feels like drowning. " What did you do...? Why....I thought...I thought you....y- lo- me...." Lance's words are swallowed by a gust of wind, and he finally tilts his head upwards, achingly slow -painfully so- until they land on the other's form, gaze going up and up until he's looking at the consequences of his actions.

The face of utter and complete devastation.

Lance is shaking as four knights hold him in place, tears falling down his cheeks while he looks at him, disbelief and anguish shining in his -now dull- blue eyes. The other's legs tremble as he fights to stay upright, but his eyes never once stray from Keith's own, mouth open in a silent gasp as he seems to ask ' _why_ ' again and again with his eyes alone.

He's breaking, pieces of himself are falling apart and he doesn't think he'll hold on for much longer.

He doesnt have to, though.

Not even a second later, a figure he knows all too well strides onto the clearing, black armor gleaming an ominous shine and dark, red cape billowing with the breeze after him. He looks just as disgusting as he did the first time they saw each other, with his blond -almost white- hair tied into a ponytail and his fake, sickening smile still plastered over his face.

"Well, _well_ , look what we have here. It' seems you werent joking when you said you were the best, Kogane." Keith looks towards the newcomer, a snarl already settled onto his mouth, and watches as a pleased, wicked look passes over the other's eyes as he hungrily stares at Lance.

"Enough chit chat, Lotor. We had a deal, and I fulfilled my part, now give me what I want." He refuses to look at Lance as he speaks, keeping his focus on Earl Lotor and his personal guard, about to boil over with rage when the other laughs and waves his hand dismissively.

"Oh, but I've only just arrived. Don't you want to catch up? It's been some time, after all." He glares harder at Lotor and seethes when the other all but narrows his eyes in delight, chuckling with an arrogance that only he can profess.

"Just give it to me, Lotor. I'm not up for your mind games. Or maybe....you failed to do your part? Because if that's the case..." He trails off, the threat hanging in the air and making the knights grip their swords tighter, only relaxing their posture when Lotor raises his hand and makes them fall back.

" _Please_ , it was child's play. I've got it right here, and since you've completed your job so _beautifully_ , I'll be kind enough to hand it to you right now. Ezor, if you would." The woman from last time nods and steps from behind her Lord, carrying a folder that she quickly hands to him, retreating to Lotor's side as soon as Keith's got it gripped tight.

"He seems to be in the mountains. From what I've gathered, some... _troublesome individuals_ caught him. It looks like they did a number on him and kept him prisoner all this time. You would do well in going there as fast as possible, who knows how much time he has left." Lotor is smiling as he says this, and he feels his blood boil at that, his body screaming at him to leave before is too late, before he loses the only thing he has left.

He turns around and his feet guide him forward, but he's stopped from taking another step by a tremulous, pained, grief-ridden voice calling out to him. He should have continued walking, ignore that tormented whisper of his name and run towards his goal, but his body has a mind of his own, and he finds himself rooted to the spot, the map on his fist crumpled as his muscles tense and his throat closes off.

"Keith.....what did you do? Did you just......did you sell me out?" He turns around and faces Lance for what he knows is the last time, ready to take whatever he throws at him, because he knows he deserves it. He's been selfish, he's a traitor, he's destined to never achieve happiness.

"I....yes." He says, and Lance's face falls with only that word as he seems to confirm the merman's worst fears, his hands covering his trembling mouth as he silently cries, blue eyes filled with betrayal while his body shakes with emotion.

" _Why?"_ Lance shouts at him. "I thought we had- something! Was...was evertything a lie? All you told me? Was there even a smidge of truth in anything you said? Was it all just an act to gain my trust? Was that Keith even _real?!"_ Lance's voice breaks, and he feels his own eyes tear up, lip wobbling as the merman keeps screaming his pain at him.

And he just stands there, and takes it all, it's his punishment.

"You got through so much trouble, lying to me, using me, leading me on- and all for _what?_ What did you sell me out for? Was it worth it? _Why_?" He shakes his head, momentarily loosing sight of the angry, heartbroken man before him, clutching his chest when he feels his breaths stutter.

"You don't understand, Lance! I had no choice! I was desperate! I- I might be a fuck up and a horrible human being, and I might lose everyone that surrounds me and be fated to be lonely and miserable forever. But Shiro is not like that! My brother deserves better! He has a bright future ahead of him! He was going to marry and create a family and be _happy_!" He sucks in a breath, his words flowing out like and uncontrolled flood, impossible to be stopped once it's begun.

"He's always taken care of me, ever since our parents died! Even when I had no job, no studies and was always a depressed mess at home! Even thought I was ten and he was only sixteen! He never once gave up on me, he supported me and pushed me to be better, to do something worthwhile!" His tears do not fall, bus his chest is burning with the intensity of the love and gratitude he feels towards his brother, it consumes him.

"We were okay! We were happy! But then we had a fight, and he disappeared, and I lost the only family I had left! He's always done so much for me...I had to repay him somehow, give something back, make him have his happy ending even if...even if that meant I had to get out of the picture." He wipes his eyes and pants, not used to rise his voice so much and for such long periods of time. He swallows and gasps, the emotions he's been keeping back coming to attack him full force, overwhelming his tired mind and aching body.

He hasn't slept a full night since Shiro vanished, he's on his wits end.

"So _yes_ , I sold you out! _Yes_ , I used you and lied and did- did horrible things that I hate myself for! But he's- he's my family, the only person that cared about me enough to keep me around, and you- you-....." He trails off, unsure of what he wants to say, many words and feelings swirling around his mind.

_' You are much more but I owe it to him.'_

_' You are important to me but I can't fail Shiro again.'_

_' You mean the world to me but I cannot abandon my brother.'_

_' You are a light in my darkened world and I love you, but Shiro needs me, and I can't betray him by chosing you.'_

_' You are my everything, but my guilt ridden conscience won't let me leave Shiro after everything he's done for me.'_

He says nothing in the end, though, and Lance let's out a hollow laugh that gives him the chills.

"I see....of course, _I'm_ just the merman that was naive enough to fall into your trap, you might hold some kind of affection towards me, like me good enough, but that's as far as it goes. When it comes down to it, your choice was made since before we met, you'll let me die for a selfish wish that has nothing to do with me. Your hands are stained with blood." Keith pales, and shakes his head once more, taking a step backwards, away from Lance's ire and his words that hurt like knives.

" _No_ \- that's, he's going to take care of you, he has a room prepared, he won't- he's a collector, you'll just-" Lance interrupts him before he can continue.

"I'll just be a trophy for some sicko to brag about! That's a fate even worse than death for Merfolk and you know it! I can't- I can't believe this, I knew you were mourning, I knew you were sad and pained and I wanted to help soothe your sorrow. But I've never imagined you'd betray me like this....I thought I could change the tide for you.....guess I was wrong..." Lance's voice trails off and he has no more words to say, whatever he has left die on his lips when Lance turns around, refusing to look at him any longer.

And that's when he turns tail, and runs.

He wonders what might have happened if he'd refused Lotor's offer back then, if he'd seeked help somewhere else instead of the Earl, known by his questionable methods and underhanded ploys.

The events come back to his mind unbidden, and unwanted, but unstoppable as they overwhelm him and thrown him in a downwards spiral of self-loathing and regret.

_\- 4 months ago -_

_He takes out the piece of paper again, and runs through the content once, twice, three times until he's sure he knows what he's getting himself into, albeit not caring whether it's legal or not, morally wrong or otherwise. He will fulfill whatever it says and deal with the consequences if it means he can find his lost brother._

_"Is this really all you want, Lotor?" He says, not feeling like going around in circles, preferring instead getting to the point and deal with this as soon as possible._

_Lotor rises and eyebrow at him, expression amused. " You talk as if this is an easy feat, Kogane. Merfolk are sneaky, elusive creatures, and even more now than hunters seek their fins and scales as if they were gold. Capturing one for my collection -and in human form, no less- in exchange for your brother's whereabouts_ _it's not going to be simple." Keith growls then snickers, reading the file once again, bored beyond belief and quite apprehensive, if only for the time it's going to take to accomplish this mission._

_"I'm a Fänger, you know, I've learnt all there is to know about Merfolk and their way of life, and when I say it can be done, I don't lie. Appealing to their likes and with the right trinkets and tactics, it's possible to gain the trust of one, but they need to be alone, groups are usually more distrustful than lone Merfolk." He hates how his mind is already thinking up ways of accomplishing this mission, gathering all the knowledge he owns and what he'd learnt in all those years training with Shiro to capture Jäegers and protect Merfolk._

_He feels sick to know he's using the things he'd learnt , the things that were meant to keep people safe, in pos of something so selfish. He's betraying everything his brother taught him, all his values and morals, his wish to defend the weak and those that are in danger._

_He knows Shiro will be disappointed and hurt, maybe even angry. But he's willing to take anything just to have him back by his side again, just to make sure he's safe and can fulfill the future he had so eagerly shared with Keith._

_A future that he'd hated because there was no place in it for him ._

_He still remembers the fight they had after, and how childish and selfish he'd been, not wanting the only person who cared about him to be snatched away by someone else and leave him alone once more._

_Everyone he loves always seems to disappear._

_But not this time. This time he will do something about it, he'll fight tooth and nail to get his brother back, and apologize properly for how insensitive and stupid he'd been. He doesn't want the last words he'd said to Shiro be: '_ So I see how it is, you care more about her than me! You're going to abandon me just like everyone else in my life! You promised to always be by my side, that I would never be alone again! You liar!'.

_He'd just been hurt and felt betrayed, scared of being alone once more, a fear that had intensified throughout the years when the people he loved kept dying one after another, like a curse, a doomed fate of eternal loneliness._

_He should have understood that Shiro would never do that, that he would include him in his new life and family. But he'd been blinded by pain and terror, he'd said things he didn't mean, and striked Shiro where it hurt the most. And his brother had left, heartbroken and miserable, but saying 'I love you' just before crossing the door, like he always did._

_So he hates this, hates this more than words can convey. But he owes Shiro, the guilt is eating up at him and prevents him from sleeping or eating, he can only think about finding him and setting things right. Keith might be a mess and unsalvageable, but Shiro deserves his happy ending, and by god he's going to do whatever it takes to give it to him._

_No matter the consequences._

_He looks up at Lotor with a frown and a snarl ready on his throat, taking in the other's amused but bored expression, sitting on his throne as if he's a king, surrounded by gold and riches that will never give him what he wants._

_"It will take time, an amount I can't predict right now, but I will catch one for your...collection." He spits the word with disgust. " As long as you keep your part of the contract and find Shiro for me." He glares, and hopes it conveys what he'll do if Lotor as much as thinks about tricking him, he might be relying on the Earl for this, but he's no fool._

_One wrong move, and he won't hesitate to cut his pretty little head off._

_"You know I will, Kogane, I always keep my word. And I expect you keep yours, as well. You told me you were the best at what you do, I hope it wasn't a lie....for your sake." The arrogant smirk on the Earl's face is infuriating, and his blood boils, knowing he's right where Lotor wants him, wrapped around his little finger._

_He loathes when people doubt his skills only because he's young -eighteen years this summer- but Shiro always told him to not mind what people said, that he knew the extent of Keith's abilities and was proud of him._

_And that was enough for him._

_"It's not. Shiro and I were the best, we never failed any of our missions, and this will be no exception. I have an idea of what I'm going to do, but you need to understand that it's really important you do not interfere, these things are delicate." He speaks with bite in his tone, angry at everyone and everything; at himself -_ for having to resort to underhanded methods to ensure the safety of the only living relative he has- _the world_ -for taking away his family and forcing him to go to such lenghts- _and people -_ for not lending a hand when he needed it most, for averting their eyes and leaving him to drown in despair.

_"Oh? Care to...enlighten me, Kogane?" He huffs, annoyed and ready to bolt out of there, the dim lights and heavy atmosphere feeling stifling and foul._

_"I'm not going to go over all the things I'm going to do, Lotor. I have no time for this." From Lotor's right, Ezor, the knight, narrows her eyes and challenges him with her gaze, fingers closed around the hilt of her sword. He complies with a growl of displeasure, for good measure._

_"Merfolk are curious creatures by nature, so the first step will be to catch their interest and attention. I'll just go sit by the beach and wait until one approaches me, which they'll eventually do, then I'll talk to them and walk away casually." He sighs, already dreading doing what he just mentioned._

_Saying it is one thing, but actually doing it is another, more difficult thing, and he doesn't know if he'll have what it takes to lie to someone's face, least of all when the fate that Keith will condemn them to is such a miserable one._

_"After that, I plan on using an Staklo orb to make them feel drawn to me, making our meetings seem casual and random instead of planned. The chime of the mineral is on a frequency that Merfolk can hear from great distances, and it rings when one is near, so I will know which way to go. A little spell will ensure the same Merfolk will be the most...receptive to the echo of the mineral, so as to not attract attention from others." He still has the bell Shiro gave him a few years ago, an exact copy to the one he wore around his neck._

_It was supposed to be used in emergencies, when they needed to contact someone from the depths but could not reach them by normal means._

_His brother would hate him for what he's going to use it for._

_"Afterwards is just....a matter of following their traditions. If I carry out the courting rituals right, even if they are not reciprocated, the Merfolk will hold at least some sort of affection towards me, and I will use that to make them accept my gift." He tries to breath normally, but just the idea of using someone like this and trick them, play with their feelings, is enough to make him wanna vomit._

_Just like he'd wanted to when he came here to make the deal with Lotor a few days ago._

_"A gift, you say? What purpose does that have? Gain their trust? I heard that those creatures appreciate jewelry, but I think it's too much investment for something that I'm eventually going to own." He focuses his eyes on the floor, doesn't think he can look at the Earl's face without feeling an overhwelming desire to punch it._

_"They like jewelry, yeah. But the main thing about this one is that it's going to be imbued with Blue Diachite, a magic gemstone that has the power of...influencing a person's decision. One time only and as long as said choice has already been dancing around their mind and they were hesitant about doing it or not." A rough laugh has him cringing and shaking as a chill runs down his spine, the sound giving him the creeps and making his hairs rise._

_"Oh my, such treachery and cunning." A giggle. "I thought you Fängers were supposed to be loyal to the cause, ready to protect those in need and stop the Jäegers from hunting Merfolk, helping get back the good relations that once united both realms." A snicker reverberates throughout the room, and he can almost feel the satisfaction radiating from it, the sound deafening and shrill to his ears._

_"And yet here you are, full of deceit and slyly planning to hurt the very thing you sought to protect. I have to admit, it's kind of...amusing, to watch you humans fall as you betray everything you stood for to comply your own selfish wishes. Entertaining, really." He can't help the growl that rips free from his throat, neither the hate-filled glare that he sends to the Earl, tears gathering on the corner of his eyes as he's confronted with all his faults and weaknesses, plus the shame of what he's planning on doing._

_"But enough about that. Are you certain that you'll be able to capture one of those creatures for me, Kogane? They need to be into human form, or the deal is off. Unshifted Merfolk cannot survive outside of the ocean for longer than a few hours, and trying to contain them in large aquariums has not worked, either." An annoyed, exaggerated sight._

_" We have yet to understand the magic that permeates the ocean, and how it links to Merfolk lifespan, but not even taking water directly out of it and keeping the creature inside works, they just die slower." He knows this, all of it. He'd studied it with Shiro on the academy, but he wouldn't have expected someone like Lotor to know of it. It seems he did his research._

_"I know what you're thinking, and the answer is yes, I've tried this before, it was a fruitless endeavor. They died. So, to be able to keep one, to add them to my collection of rare creatures, they need to shift, and they only do that voluntarily, which never happens when they are taken by force." Keith breathes through his nose, nauseated at the idea of the many innocents Lotor has killed for his stupid desire._

_Not that he's any better._

_"Wich is exactly why I'm taking the longer, more difficult route." He snaps at the Earl." Gain their trust, appeal to their instincts, follow their traditions, add a few items that give them a little push and......" He gulps, voice nearly gone from speaking for so long. He's not used to it. ".....and they're yours." The subsequent silence that follows seems final, like he'd just sealed his fate -twice now- and accepted to follow this task till the end, no take backs, no backing down._

_He still had a chance to deny this, to say no after the first time he'd left with the contract in hand. But he'd come back, wary and desperate after days of staring at pictures of Shiro and him in an empty, dusty home that had lost the warmth of 'family' after his brother vanished._

_And now? Now, he has no choice._

_"Wonderful, Kogane. I will await news from you, then. Do you reckon that it will be done within the next four months?" A strange question, since Lotor said he didn't care about time as long as it was done following his guidelines._

_"Yeah, it will." He answers, confused and beyond tired._

_Lotor responds with a wicked smile that looks evil and twisted, and it widens to impossible levels while he cackles, hands clutching his forearms as he leans forwards, eyes gleaming with a malicious light._

_"Perfect."_

_\--_

If he'd known....if only he'd known it would hurt this much, he would have never....he could have looked for another way, he could have.....who is he trying to fool? He'd resorted to rely on Lotor because he'd been desperate enough, because he'd tried everything and done anything humanly possible to look for Shiro and still came back empty handed.

He's cursed to lose everyone he loves.

Lance doesn't seem to be the exception to that rule.

_(How he wishes he hadn't met him. How he wishes that was the truth.)_

He's had to fight tooth and nail, and shed blood, tears and sweat only to retrieve his only living relative from the clutches of fate, but he still feels it won't be enough, that Shiro will pay the price for loving him. Destiny has it out for him, and the only thing he can do is try to keep his head above the water and breathe, even when he feels like he's drowning and the air lessens with every bad thing that happens to him.

If the tide rises again, he doesn't know if he'll be able to stay afloat.

He doesn't know if he'll want to, this time.

\--

He watches Keith's retreating back with tears in his eyes, refusing to outright cry, swallowing his sobs instead, in hopes of maintaining some semblance of composure.

He can't believe that he'd just.....He'd trusted Keith, trusted in the love he saw in his eyes and the affection on every touch, his kind words, the heartfelt stories and sincere laugh he'd come to cherish, knowing they were few and far between. He'd always been aware of the sorrow and guilt in the other's eyes, but he'd thought those emotions had been born from past events, from the death of a loved one whom Keith was still mourning.

He'd never imagined those guilt-ridden eyes had been directed at _him_ ; for all the lies Keith had told him, for the ways he'd used him, for how he took advantage of him, and for the ultimate betrayal that broke his heart into a million pieces.

He'd been so naive, he should have listened to Allura, should have stayed away and be content with what he had, live his life to the fullest and be grateful for the happiness and stability he'd been blessed with. Now he's lost everything he holds dear, his family, his home, his friends, his body....and he's pretty sure he's going to _die_.

No matter how much Keith might have thought otherwise.

Lance is not the only naive one, it seems. Keith appears to lack the knowledge that only few humans possess, the secret that no Merfolk is willing to share unless they are certain that the other person is their soulmate, someone they can trust and spend the rest of their lives with.

A secret that he won't share even in the face of death.

A hand suddenly finds his shoulder, and he backs away as if burnt, turning around to snarl at the white haired human, showing all his teeth that remain even after the shift. He growls and seethes, sends a glare to the being before him in hopes he will back off.

Unsurprisingly, it doesn't work.

"You've lied to him, havent you?" He finds his voice, speaking with a calm he doesn't feel, the anger and hurt of being used and betrayed, of his feelings being taken advantage of and his customs and traditions used against him igniting a fire in his chest that burns as bright as Keith's eyes did.

He hates how he still cares about him, even now. But he has a feeling that Keith didn't really know what he was signing up for when he'd made a deal with this human, because, if not for their scales, why want a mer in human form?

He knows the answer, but desperately wishes it to not be true.

The human rises an eyebrow and hums, his face the very picture of -fake- innocence. "Whatever do you mean, child?" His voice sends shivers down his spine, the tone so friendly and harmless it's sickening. An act, nothing but deceit dripping from every word.

" _Please_ -Lance says, mockingly- I've seen enough Merfolk be captured and die throughout the years to know where this is going. You're no clueless human, and you're definitely _not_ a collector. A hunter would have caught me as a mer and taken my scales to sell them for money, and then use my corpse for Goddess knows what, and a Collector would have gone through some trouble to try and catch me as a human, but never to this extent." He examines the human's expression, seeing nothing but curiosity and indiference, amusement too, like he's watching something interesting unfold before him, something to quench his boredom with.

"One could argue, that, because of your wealth, you've been able to spend money and resources on this. But so much investment to get nothing but a useless trophy in return? That seems unlikely to me. Once turned human, Merfolk are no different from them at all. You used Keith to get what you _really_ wanted, didn't you? What lies have you fed him?" The human's smile widens to a frightening grin that looks malevolent and delighted as he walks towards him, his steps sure and determined.

One of his armor-clad hands cup his cheek, and he struggles to get away, unable to do so by the many arms that hold him in place, restricting his movements and freedom.

"Well, well, aren't you a smart little thing. You're right, I lied to kogane, and he was so desperate that he didn't even think I could be tricking him, he probably preferred not to think I was, to spare himself the guilt." He glares at the other, growling.

"I told him I wanted Merfolk to add to my collection of rare items -which actually exists, by the way- but that I needed them in human form, because I didn't want the creature to die, I didn't need nor want a preserved, stuffed corpse. I told him I would take care of them, keep them fed and clothed and healthy, albeit trapped inside my castle with no chance at freedom." The human laughs, then, conceited and low, the shrill sound making his skin crawl as his sensitive ears pick on every ounce of malice and venom hiding in his words.

"And he gobbled it all up. Every single word, too caught up in the grief of his missing brother to bother with the obvious lies I was telling him. He believed that I would take care of the creature, and executed my instructions perfectly. _He brought you to me_." The human leans in even closer, noses nearly touching.

"And with this, the puzzle piece that was missing falls into place, and I can _finally_ fulfill my wish. You, little pet, will be the catalyst that'll set the beginning of my perfect world." This close, the other's breath mingles with his own, and he feels disgust claw it's way up his throat, the sensation increasing when the human's voice rings close to his ear, whispering words only he can hear.

"And do you want to know the best part? The truth is-" The murmured words make his blood freeze in his veins, and he has barely a second to gasp in disbelief and revulsion before something knocks him on the back of his head, making his vision spin and his world tilt as he sways, dizzy and horrified and _so, so angry._

"That's right, little mer. Keith played right into my hands, and he doesn't even know it." The laugh that follows makes his ears ring, and his legs tremble as they fight to hold him up, refusing to crumple before this human's eyes, holding stubbornly on the last scraps of dignity he has left.

"I suggest you get some sleep, little pet. Tonight's a red moon, and we have a busy day ahead of us." He whimpers and tries to stop his eyelids from closing, the dread he's feeling making his heart beat erratically inside his chest. He knows what awaits him, knows he's doomed and destined to fade, knows the truth and what hides behind cruel blue eyes.

The selfish desire of a greedy man.

He knows it all, but all he wants in that moment is to have Keith by his side.

He prays he finds his brother.

He wishes he'd gotten to say goodbye.

\--

The walk through the wilderness and towards the mountains takes him more time that he'd like to admit, and all the way there he's weighted down by the guilt and shame of what he did, Lance's betrayed face burned into his mind like a brand.

Evening has fallen, and with it has gone the light and the warmth that kept him from freezing over -in more ways than one- as his body refuses to obey to his commands, joints aching from the strain of his endless walk and the unforgiving gusts of ice-cold wind.

He knows he should rest, camp somewhere and wait for the night to pass and the sun to rise once more. But he feels like if he stops, he'll be too late and Shiro will slip through his fingers once again, leaving him to face in solitude the consequences of his actions, and the undeniable fact that he's a horrible human being.

At least if he has Shiro with him, he'll feel like his actions hadn't been for nothing, like there's been purpose for them, like he hadn't just thrown away a valuable and irreplaceable bond in vain. He has the childish notion that Shiro will comfort him, but that's his cowardice speaking.

Still, though, he can't bring himself to stop walking, he fears his thoughts will drown him if his mind stand still, so even when his feet scream at him to rest, he forces his legs to move forward, one after the other, the only sound surrounding him being the scrapping of his boots against the soil.

He doesn't know for how long he walks or how much time has passed. He's hungry and tired and sleepy and his chest hurts everytime he tries to breathe. He thinks it's because a sob has been lodged in his throat since he's left Lance behind. But he refuses to cry.

His eyes mist over every time he blinks, and he has to stop multiple times to rub them and look at the map Lotor gave him, anxiety thrumming loud in his veins when he realizes that he's actually near the point marked with an X. He prays to any god out there that his brother is okay, that he doesn't go in that cave and find another corpse to bury under the family garden. He doesn't care what happens to him as long as Shiro is safe, but he doesn't think he'll be able to handle another funeral.

He just wants his family to be okay.

Suddenly, he steps on hard rock, and rises his gaze to glance upon a moss covered mountain just as the sun begins setting behind it, bathing the landscape in an orange glow that seems to set everything alight.

But he's still so cold.

He wonders if all the warmth he's missing is back with Lance. It sure feels way colder now that he's alone, chills him to the bones.

But he's not going to let that stop him, he crouches behind some bushes as he climbs the steep slope, watching out for signs of bandits -he supposes they are bandits-, only now beginning to question why mere thiefs would want his brother to being with. It can't be money, because they don't have much, neither ransom since they only have each other. He can only think that it's either that Shiro got up into their business and they captured him to keep him quiet, or revenge.

They'd made their fair share of arrests and sent a lot of people to jail, so it's warranted some of them would want to get back at them. It's the only thing that makes sense.

He hears voices and kneels on the ground, ignoring the way the pebbles dig into his knees through his pants and listening intently to what they're saying. The voices he expects are rough and with heavy accents, speaking with barely-understandeable words and slang they picked up on the streets. What he's met with, instead, is calm and collected tones, speaking with professionalism, and giving a report on the situation like they are organized.....like....

Like _soldiers_.

He holds his breath, completely baffled and confused, and just listens.

"Reporting, sir. The prisoner continues like always, he refuses to reveal any information and insists that he knows nothing. He demands that we let him go or be faced with the consequences." A steady, emotionless voice speaks, methodically relaying facts like he's not talking about Keith's brother, like he's talking about a convict or prisoner.

It makes his blood boil.

"I see. It's of little consequence, now. I've been informed that our role has finished and we are required to retrear immediately, we have no need of the prisoner anymore, we can dispose of him." Another, more feminine voice says, just as cold and unfeeling as the previous one, making him panic at the word _'dispose'_ , his body itching to move and rescue Shiro before anyone can hurt him.

"I see. What are our orders then, sir?" He needs to think of a plan, a way to sneak in and take the guys out silently, make sure he doesn't alert the other of his presence so he can safely take Shiro out, be careful with his actions so he doesnt mess up again and-

"Kill him." He's jumping and charging at the soldiers before he's even processed he's moving.

He runs with his sword in hand and flanks their side, tackling one of them and knocking him out with the blunt end of his sword, taking in his armor and weaponry that are definitely knight-worthy.

He's about to do the same with the other when his instincts scream at him, and he twirls and parries a powerful strike with his sword before it lands, glaring at the blue-haired woman that looks at him with distaste. He pushes forward and makes her back down, their swords disentangling themselves as he goes in straight for the kill, knowing the other will do the same given the chance.

Her aim is true and her movements are agile, she's swift and quick and her every blow is packed with astounding force, wich makes him be on the defensive.

She's good, _really_ good. But she makes one mistake, leaves an opening when she tries for a downwards slash, and he takes the opportunity to hit her as hard as he can on the ribs, sending her tumbling down as she holds her left side and growls, trying in vain to get back up.

He just approaches her and knocks her out too, like he did with her companion.

By the end of the fight, he's sweating and gasping for breath, and questions that he has no answers to swirl around in his mind, leaving him a puzzled, worried mess. His brother is just in reach, though, so he forces himself to stop thinking and strides inside the cave with the force of a hundred knights, ready to take on anyone that dares stand on his way.

And they do, oh they do.

And he fights and defeats every single one of them, growing more and more weary by the second, but the thought of giving up never even crosses his mind. He plows his way through the hordes of soldiers and leaves chaos and destruction on his way, screaming the name of his brother until his voice grows hoarse and his throat burns.

Silence reigns, eventually, and when he calls Shiro's name one last time, an answer comes.

"Keith...?" A weak, strained voice comes from the end of the hallway, and he wastes no time in running -more like stumbling, at this point- towards it, heart hammering inside his chest at the prospect of finally seeing Shiro again.

He's alive, _he's alive._

He rounds the corner and stumbles upon metal bars that make a jail out of a small room, and there, sitting on the corner, there's a familiar face he'd though he'd never see again, and it brings relieved tears to his eyes to see he's alive. _He's alive._

"Shiro." His brother looks up, and Keith's stricken to notice the subtle and not so subtle differences in his appearance, horror getting hold of his heart at the obvious pain Shiro must have gone through.

"Keith, you're here!" The smile that lits up Shiro's face makes everything worth it, and he suddenly feels lighter, like he can finally breathe again. It's not enough to make the guilt disappear, it never will. But knowing he's succeeded, knowing he's managed to save his last family member, makes a part of him that'd been terrified to be alone swell with pride and relief.

And, for a moment, that emotion overshadows any other one, and he's free.

He destroys the lock and opens the door, and Shiro jumps to his feet and tackles him into a hug that feels familiar and soothing, and if the grip is a little bit tighter than normal, well, nobody has to know.

"Keith, I can't believe you're here. I thought I would never see you again." Shiro leans back and cups his cheek, his honest, grateful smile never wavering, and Keith takes a moment to look at him from head to toe, registering the changes and feeling guilty for every single one of them.

The most obvious one? Shiro's lost his right arm. There's nothing there but a stump that ends a little past his shoulder. The skin is scarred and rough there, and it looks charred and dark, like it'd been burnt to cauterize the wound or something similar.

The need to cry and vomit is overwhelming, but he keeps it at bay.

Not now.

Scars cover every single part of skin he's able to see, from his shoulders and arm to the small patch of skin visible below his stomach and one right above his nose, where a lock of long black hair falls over his eyes.

His parlor is pale and he seems thinner than the last time he'd seen him, but his muscles are still there, proof that he'd kept on working out, possibly to try and escape one day, thinking that Keith would never find him.

Shiro leans their foreheads together, and gulps down a shaky breath, his left arm going around to hold him again. "I'm so glad you're okay, I thought I lost you, I thought _he'd_ killed you." Keith shakes his head, not registering his words or anything around him but the fact that his brother is _okay_ , he's okay, and he can finally apologize for being such an ass and a selfish prick and tell him he's proud of him and he deserves to live happily together with his special someone.

"Shiro I- I'm sorry, I should've never told you those things. I was an idiot, and scared of being alone and- and I thought you were going to leave me behind like everyone else and-" He struggles to breath, and Shiro shushes him and knocks their foreheads together again while he continues to apologize, saying that he'd been angry and terrified and lashed out like a child, and that Shiro deserved none of it.

"I know, Keith, it's okay, it's not your fault, none of this is. I want you to know that, no matter who I chose to share my life with, you'd never stop being a priority to me, and I'd never brush you aside or leave you out of my life. You're my brother, and I love you. That's never going to change." He lets out a long breath he'd probably been holding back since Shiro dissappeared, and feels his muscles relax and his body become boneless, relieved beyond belief that his brother doesn't hate him, that he never even thought of brushing him aside.

He feels like an idiot for ever thinking he would.

"I know we've just reunited and stuff, but, Keith, we really need to go. _He_ told me you were dead, but you're not, so if he'd lied to me that means he planned to do something with you- and I don't know what it is but- We need to stop him before it's too late. If I've counted the days right -and I think I did- tonight's a red moon, and he's probably going to do something that- and if he has her I don't know what I'd do-"

" _Wait_ , wait -Shiro stops talking- what do you mean, you thought _I_ was dead? Who is he? What's- what the hell is going on? Why are you here in the first place?" Shiro shakes his head, and motions for him to follow as their run towards the entrance, his brother needing to stop after a while to hold Keith's arm and drag him out.

He begins to talk while they run again.

"Look, before I was taken away, I had been having....trouble, with a really persistent man that wanted to use my services. I didn't know who it was, and only messengers came at me to inform me of what their boss wanted. And what he wanted was something I would _never do_ , no matter what." Shiro growls and breathes deep through his nose, clearly mad.

"That was about the same time that I started...courting the person I told you about, and that should have ringed some bells and alerted me of what was going to happen, but it didn't. It seems that guy's lackeys began stalking me, and, somehow, they found out that I had proposed to her, and the same day that I came back, waiting for her while she thought her answer, they took me away. They were too many, I had no chance." He huffs, his legs burning with the strain of the pace they have, but he refuses to stop until Shiro does.

"They took me to their boss, and he once again -in person, this time- informed me of what he wanted me to do, knowing that I was the best at what I did, and that I had the best chance at succeeding." Shiro snarls. " He wanted me to meet with my lover once more, lure her to the shore and wait until she shifted for me. He wanted to capture her and use her in a mad attempt at fulfilling some useless legend and-"

"Wait, wait, _wait_." Keith yells, befuddled and dreading. "What do you mean, _shift_? Lure to the shore? Shiro, was- is she?" Shiro halts his steps, and looks at him with sadness etched in his eyes, his face the picture of misery and heartbreak.

"Yes, Keith, my lover was- is... a mermaid." He gapes at Shiro, breathless and frozen. " She was- is the best thing that ever happened to me, after you. We'd been courting for some time now, and I finally asked her to marry me, but she told me she had to think about it, because shifting was irreversible and she had a brother to think about." For some reason, the word ' _brother'_ sends goosebumps through his skin, and he begins to sweat and gasp as he tries to reason with himself that, _no, it can't be, it's impossible._

"I was supposed to meet her the next day at a beach only the both of us knew about, but then I was captured, and they tried to force me to lie and hand her to them, but I refused. I never showed up to the date, and I'm sure she swam away, thinking I had rejected her even when I'd been the one to ask for her hand in marriage." Shiro's sorrowful, dejected expression breaks something inside him, and even though he wants to speak and ask a million questions, he can't bring himself to stop him from talking.

"But they didn't know that, they threatened me anyway, thinking that I could still lure her out. They said they would kill anyone I held dear, but I was sure nobody knew where we lived and that you could run and hide if necessary, so I said no. They tried everything to get me to spill, to help them capture her, and, when nothing worked and I refused to share what I knew about Merfolk.....they cut my arm, because I was being...stubborn." He sees the way Shiro flinches, and can only imagine what kind of pain he'd must gone through.

It's terrifying to think about.

"After that I just....tried my best to keep on breathing, keep on going. Knowing that she was safe and that you probably went away -following our rules for emergencies- was a blessing, and I could hang on because of that. But one day, he came in and told me you were dead, and I just...blanked, it was like I had died, but I was still breathing." Shiro sucks in a shuddering breath before continuing.

"I don't know how much time passed after that or...what happened, it's all fuzzy. But I know I never told them anything, and, with time, I got a hold of myself and began thinking of ways to escape, because I refused to believe a word coming from the mouth of that deranged snake." Shiro snaps, his tone bitter and filled with a rage so deep it rattles his core, fist clenched at his side as he begins to stride once again, motioning for him to follow.

"Maybe he lied to me about you because he though I would break and tell him everything, but if that damned white haired bastard thinks I'm done with him he has another thing coming. And as soon as he's behind bars I'm going to search for Allura and ask for forgiveness and-" His breath stops, and his body shuts down, he's aware that Shiro's still talking, but his mind is stuck on the words he heard, and how the world seems to shatter around him.

Memories of encounters shake his core and he tries to get air into his lungs, an impossible feat when he feels panic and denial closing his throat and misting his eyes over. Lance's voice fills his ears alongside the sound of waves.

He tastes salt.

_'Yeah, I mean, I understand why she's worried, but sometimes, it feels like she doesn't trust me, and it hurts. You know?' Lance says, pouting like a little kid._

_'I know, but I'm sure she does it because she cares about you. She's your big sister isn't she? She probably feels like she needs to protect you, and even moreso if you're the only family she has left.' It reminds him so much of his and Shiro's own situation, it hurts._

_Lance hums and swings his tail to the side, a small, proud smile lifting the corners of his mouth. 'You're right, I probably should stop giving her such a hard time. Allura is pretty amazing when she's not being an overprotective, nagging mom.' The mer laughs, and the sound lifts his own spirits. He smiles despite himself, and brushes away the sorrow for now._

He feels like he's choking, and still tastes salt.

But he doesn't know where it's coming from, and he's panicking and _he can't breathe._ He doesn't even know when he's fallen to the ground, knees burning from the impact, or when Shiro has crouched before him, his hand on Keith's cheek as his lips move. But no sound reaches his ears while they still ring with the echo of the name _'Allura'_ as it repeats in a loop in that sweet voice he longs to hear again.

He feels like puzzle pieces he didn't know where missing begin slotting into place, and the sudden realization of what he's done, of what really happened, weight him down and crush his heart. He struggles not to cry, and realizes a bit too late that he's already doing so, and the only thing he sees though his blurry vision is the concerned face of Shiro as he tries to calm him down.

"Hey, hey, c'mon Keith, look at me, breathe." He tries, he really does." It's okay, you're fine. What's happened to you, little brother?" He shakes his head, and works on getting his breath under control, hands shooting to grip his brother's arms as he looks up at him, trying to speak through his wheezing.

"Who....Shiro, who was it that took you?" He's still clinging to the thin thread of denial that could mean he hadn't just played right into the Earl's hands, as if the words _'white haired bastard'_ hadn't been enough to make him understand what really transpired.

"I- what? Keith this is not the time to- he stops, looking at Keith with an unreadeable expression- his name's....Lotor, I think, one of the lords of the area. He lives in the castle just up north-" He's suddenly laughing, hysterical and frantic, and he knows he must look deranged and insane, but suddenly, abruptly, everything makes sense, and he _wants to die._

He's been played a fool. Tricked like a child. Completely outsmarted even when he thought he'd been the one in control.

_How naive._

Lotor was the mastermind behind everything, he'd been the one that took Shiro, and when he concluded that his brother wouldn't help him on his quest, he confined him away, told him Keith was dead to keep him under control, and waited for Keith to eventually reach for his help, spreading rumors about his resources and contacts and how there was nothing he couldn't do.

And he did just that. Desperate and on the verge of giving up, he heard of the achievements of the Lord up north, how he could find anyone or anything given the right payment, and, in a last attempt to rescue his missing brother, straight up marched to make a pact with the devil, consequences be damned as long as Shiro was safe.

Oh, how satisfied and delighted Lotor must have been when he passed the gateways of his throne room, how smug and pleased he must have felt when Keith kneeled on the ground and accepted his terms, signing the contract and sealing his fate.

It all had worked just like the Earl had predicted, and Keith had been none the wiser.

How could he'd been so stupid?.

"Keith, hey, talk to me. What's going on?" Shiro's worried tone makes him wince, he feels unworthy, useless, such an idiot.

"I....I messed up, Shiro, big time. I- he told me he was just a collector, that he wanted to keep them locked but wouldn't hurt them. I just wanted to find you, I didn't care what I had to do, I was tired of losing everything that ever mattered to me and-I -I made the wrong choice I-" Shiro stills, his eyes hard as they glance at him with that stern, fatherly look that always makes him feel warm inside.

This time it only evokes shame.

"What did you do Keith?" He wants to swallow his words, but they refuse to be held back, and they tumble out of his open mouth like a flood, tongue-tied and jumbling together in a mess as he tries to explain why he did what he did.

"I worked for Lotor so I could find you." Shiro gapes, a horrified look on his face.

"I gave him a merman because he told me he wanted one for his collection, I didn't know that he was the one that took you! I heard rumors that there was nothing he couldn't do, that he had many contacts and people scattered throughout the lands, that he had eyes everywhere! I had been looking for you for ages, and I couldn't find you! I knew you were alive because your bonded spirit was still loitering about, but there was no trace of you! I was.....desperate." He glances down, too ashamed to face his brother, but Shiro hold his chin and makes him look up, his eyes kind albeit remorseful, shining with pain that he's probably caused.

"Keith....I'm not going to tell you that what you did wasn't wrong, because it was, and I never want to be the reason of you doing something like that. I get why you did it, and that you were lied to and part of a bigger picture that you weren't able to see. This was all part of that man's plan, and we were just the pawns that moved to the tune he played." He brushes Keith's tears away and steels his gaze, him doing the same as he tries to drown the guilt and disgust he feels towards himself.

"But listen, Keith, none of that matters now. What matters is that we have to stop him, he was never going to take care of Allura, and he won't take care of the merman you captured for him. The reason I refused his offer, was because what he had in mind was something far more terrifying and atrocious that what you can imagine." They stand, and Keith gulps, muscles tense and ready to snap at any given moment, his eyes never leaving his brother's grim face.

"He plans to cut open that merman's chest and eat his heart." Keith's own heart stops, and he sucks in a breath that feels razor sharp and ice-cold.

"And he will stop at nothing to get what he wants. Nobody is going to get in his way, and the only ones that know what's going on are you and me." He grips his sword and lets the weight of steel in his palm comfort his rising anxiety, Lance's face and his smile and the feel of his skin and his lips on his giving him the courage he needs to move on.

Move on and set things right, even if that means losing Lance forever, he'll be content as long as he's alive.

"So, what do we do, Shiro?" His brother smirks, reminiscing of the old times, head tilted to the side in that way that he knows means he's ready to fight and bestow just punishment upon the corrupt people that dared mess with them.

"We do what we know best. We protect the weak and defeat the evil. Let's go and give this Lord a surprise visit, shall we?" Shiro looks up at the disappearing sun, a small frown marring his features. " And we better hurry, we need to get there before the full moon is up." He doesn't understand why that's important, but it matters little to him in that moment.

He just wants to hold Lance in his arms once more and release him into the sea so he can be safe and go back home. No matter how much it will hurt to watch him go.

He runs fast, trailing behind Shiro, and prays to the moon to rise a little slower.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun facts:  
> -Fänger: Catcher, trapper, captor.  
> -Jäger: Hunter, fighter.


	4. The truth (The promise)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again, just one update left for this story to end! Get your tissues ready, because this is where the angst comes in, but don't be discouraged by it! Next chap is the epilogue, and with it comes the always promised happy ending *winks*.
> 
> Feels free to tell me what you think! And as always, thanks to anyone that read, suscribed, left comments, bookmarked or left kudos! You guys are the best! <3

* * *

When Lance wakes up, the stars are high in the sky as he glances at them through the glass vault right over his head. He's laying on something hard, and when he tries to move his arms and legs he finds that he's unable to, he feels sluggish and tired and like his body weights tons.

Although that weakness does not make his anger and fright go away. Not in any measure.

He thinks back to what happened before they knocked him out, about the words that the human had told him in a delighted whisper filled with malice. Words that had made him want to sink his teeth onto his throat and _push_ , push until his pulse was gone and his blood stained his jaw, the predator in him wanting out.

He doesn't think he's been more disgusted and enraged in his entire life.

_'And do you want to know the best part? The truth is, I was the one that took Keith's brother in the first place. I was the one that lured him to seek my services, I was the one that managed to make him twist his beliefs and morals so he could get what he wanted. It's.....delighful, to see the extent of what humans are willing to do, how many taboos they're ready to break to fulfill their selfish desires.'_

He hopes Keith doesn't know about this, hopes that his brother is safe and he's managed to rescue him. He knows Keith'll be torn and broken if he learns that everything had been a ploy for Lotor to get what he wanted. _That_ being something that he was sure even Keith didn't know about.

Barely anyone did.

It was just an old, twisted-over-time myth. A fairy tale.

One whose truth only merfolk knew. One they would never share with _anyone_.

Not anymore, at least.

He glances right and left, and takes in the spacious room around him, completely empty save for the statues on the walls and the one he's laying on, which is uncomfortable and too hard, his back aching from the position as it digs into his spine.

Completely alone and shrouded by silence, he tries not to drown under the knowledge that he means nothing to Keith, that everything he'd done was nothing but an act meant to lure him in, to gain his trust and lower his defenses so he could trick him into doing what he wanted.

He remembers the feeling of being weightless and light-headed, happy and overjoyed as everything became fuzzy, and nothing but his love for Keith and his need to please him and hold him filled his mind. He also remembers the sudden cold that washed over him and how every nice sensation vanished like mist when the circlet had fallen, how his emotions and feelings had boosted and everything came back into focus, too bright and too loud whilst the memory of what he'd done came back like a tidal wave.

Unforgiving and overpowering.

He'd been so confused, then. The kiss, the confession, the acceptance, the spell, the shift, the walk, the garden, everything was muddled but clear, and he couldn't believe his actions, how irresponsible and risky it'd been. He'd wanted to believe that it'd been a mistake, that Keith would've never done something so horrible to him, but his memories proved otherwise, and even thought he'd begged for the other to deny such claims, to say that he hadn't betrayed him, Keith remained silent.

And that'd been answer enough.

But even so-! _Even so_....he still cares for him. He still felt pity for the way Lotor had lied to him, took away his only family and made him do something so immoral to get him back, played with his feelings and his love and twisted his morals to force him to do his bidding. Lance knows that if it'd been Allura, he would've probably done the same, she's the only one he has left, he would take on the world all alone if it meant she was safe.

Keith had probably felt the same way.

And he'd thought that Lotor just wanted him captured, caged, maybe shown like a trophy or kept as a pet, but not dead, never dead. That had been naive and gullible on his part, but he couldn't have known about the human's deranged wishes, or the true reason behind his assigned job, that was something that no one could have predicted.

So Keith is at fault, _yes_. He is guilty and to blame for everything that is going to transpire tonight, whatever that may be. But Lance can't find it in himself to fault him for wanting to keep his family safe, for choosing years-long familial love over a budding one that maybe hadn't been at all. They have just been unwilling players in a game controlled by Lotor, and it just so happened that he got the short end of the stick.

He just wishes it didn't have to end like this.

"Deep in thought, are we?" He stills, and growls when he feels a presence approach him from the left, an armor clad hand reaching out in his line of vision to grip his chin, turning it to glance at Lotor's face as he smiles in glee.

"Don't touch me." He snarls, and hopes the other gets the memo when he bares his teeth, glaring like his life depends on it and struggling to get his hands out. To possibly wrap them around his neck and _squeeze_ , enjoy the feeling of air leaving his lungs. It's impossible, but a man can dream.

"Now, don't be like that, the moon is beginning to rise, but until then we're going to spend some quality time together, so be good." Lotor rounds him and climbs a top of him, completely unabashed and unbothered as he sits on his stomach, his long, white hair cascading down his chest like a curtain. A horrible, tainted curtain that hides a malice as deep as the crevices he's seen in the ocean, leading to an abyss so dark it felt endless.

"Do you know, little mer, _why_ you're here?" The question is surprising, but Lotor must not know that all mer are aware of what he's trying to do, he must think that only a few ones are privy to that information, rare knowledge. But merfolk take care of their own, they hold communication in high regards and feel like everyone should be informed of things pertaining to their history, traditions, magic, bodies and customs.

Which is what Allura does, teaching the younglings everything that has to do with what they are, what they can do, the situation between both worlds, the legends and tales that spawned over time, and whatever truth there is to them.

Sometimes, a stray, reborn mer will appear, confused and clueless about the world, and the hunters will get to them, bestowing a horrifying fate upon them, taking their second chance away .

But oftentimes, Allura or some of the other chiefs will find them first, and they'll teach them all about merfolk and their roots, and they will settle on one of the villages and fit in right away, beginning a new life with the knowledge of what they are, regardless of their memories coming back or not.

So _yeah_ , he knows _why_ he's here, but he hopes he's wrong. He really does.

"Yeah, I'm here because you're crazy and bored and have way too much free time." Above him, the human laughs, the sound making his body shake as the tremors run through him at the contact. Rolo always told him he became too cheeky when he felt cornered. He wasn't wrong.

"Aren't you a feisty little thing. But no, that is not _why_." Lotor smirks as he looks down on him, his weight uncomfortable and his gaze making him feel dirty. " You know....my great great great grandfather once told me a story, a _very_ interesting one." A finger runs down his cheek, lightly nicking the skin with it's nails as the Lord keeps speaking.

"He said, that when he'd been young, he found a beached mermaid hurt on the shore. Her name was Dreia, and she'd been hurt by the wreckage of a ship after a storm. He tended to her as best as he could, and sent her on her way with the promise to meet again." The finger on his cheek trails down to his collarbone, and his breath catches in his throat.

"They met many times, and, through the months, their love bloomed, and she eventually agreed to share her life with him, to _change_ so they could be together on the surface. Life was good, she got pregnant, they had a child, but then my ancestor caught a mortal disease that would kill him in less than a year." He feels the pad of Lotor's fingertip put pressure on the hollow of his throat, and holds back the need to swallow, glaring defiantly at the other.

"He was scared to die, of course. And couldn't help but think that he'd caught the disease because of his wife, because she was a _monster_ that, even while looking human on the outside, was still a strange creature on the inside. She had fangs that could tear limbs apart, scarred skin from where scales had once been, torn legs that looked mangled and unnatural, and slitted eyes that looked at him with the intensity of a predator." Lance knows about that, not every mer that shifts looks unblemished and beautiful, for some, the shift entails a great deal of pain, because their body refuses the change, clinging to the form it knows it's true.

"She looked like _that_ because she suffered to be with _him_ , because she loved him enough to go through such horrible pain, one that wouldn't abate even after the change was done." He snaps, his tone bitter and sour, hating this human for mocking an agony he would never be able to understand.

"That's besides the point, pet. The thing _is_ , he grew scared of her, scared of dying, either by her hands or by disease. So he sought a cure, and embarked on a journey to do just that, traveling the lands, gathering information and folklore, myths, tales, whatever scrap of hope he could find. And among the many legends he found, admist the many variations and retellings, there was one thing they all had in common." Lotor's smirk widens, and the finger dips even lower until it points to the left side of his chest, right where his heart is beating too fast to be healthy.

"A mermaid's heart in a human body, and a blood-red full moon." The other's twisted smile widens. " The recipe for _immortality_." He gasps, and shakes his head in denial, but thinks better than to voice his thoughts, he knows Lotor won't listen to him.

"He came back home when the time was right, took her to the mountains, knocked her out, and waited for the moon to be at her zenith. And when she turned blood red and cast her ominous light over them, he cut her chest open, plucked her heart out, and _ate it_." He holds back the urge to gag, tears gathering in the corner of his eyes at the thought of that poor mermaid, and how her love got betrayed even after everything she did and sacrificed to be with her loved one.

"He gained immortality after that, his disease vanished and his health was never affected. He raised his child, and left his knowledge as his legacy, his gift, a practice that now runs in the family and has been done by my grandfather, and my father after him. _Ah_...." Lance looks up just in time to see a blissful, reminiscing look etched on the Lord's face. "Mother was _really_ beautiful, father says I take after her." Lotor looks down at him and begins to undo the tight knot over his shoulder that keeps the robe tied around him, and he can't do nothing but watch.

"We've been ruling this kingdom form the shadows, thanks to that, the underworld belongs to us, we have decades of contacts and favors and riches to our name, we are _unstoppable_. And now it's my turn to follow in their footsteps, and you, little mer, will help me fulfill my duty." He blanches and narrows his eyes into slits, looking at Lotor with so much hatred he would already have burst into flames if he had such an ability.

"How could yo do that? How could you let your father do that to your mother? Immortality does _not_ exist! It's nothing but a twisted, old fairy tale told by ignorant people from a time where nothing about merfolk was known!" A hand clasps over his mouth, silencing him, and he longs to sink his fangs into the skin and tear it out.

"You still try to lie, even when I know the truth. I told you my great-great-great-grandfather told me this story, but maybe I should have clarified." He leans in close, breath fanning against Lance's cheek. " He told me this but a year ago, he's close to his two hundred and seventy year, as of now." It's not a surprise, it's really not, he expected something like this.

Lotor and his family have been the ones behind some -maybe all- of the disappearances of merfolk all throughout the decades, it makes sense, given the story he's been told. But his family had also been naive and foolish, they didn't know what they had gotten themselves into when they chose to defile and trick merfolk into eventual death.

But _he knows_ , oh, does he know. And he'll relish on the fact that the fate that will befall this bloodline of corruption and evil will be a proper punishment. They've unknowingly cursed themselves, and they don't even know it.

He chuckles.

"You really don't know what you're talking about, _human_. Immortality _does not exist._ Have you ever seen your relative face to face? Or was he, maybe, covered from head to toe and secretive, refusing to be seen?" Lotor leans back, eyes narrowed and mouth upturned, and he knows he's hit the spot, a sensitive issue that this family had probably told no one about.

"I don't know what you mean, _child_." Liar. His face says it all.

"I think _you do_. But I also think you don't know the reason _why_." He smiles up at the other, satisfied and ready to shatter his dream of eternal life. "They never became immortal, they became Droja. Creatures cursed to live on for a long time while their body deteriorates, slowly, painfully, until the time comes that they cannot move or speak, until their bodies are nothing but an empty vessel that contains only their mind, which will never be able to leave because their other half is missing." Hands close around his throat, not cutting his airways, but putting enough pressure to be uncomfortable.

"What do you mean by that? Speak!" He laughs, the sound strangled and breathy. But he's too smug and content to care about that at the moment, feeling a smidge of pity for these fools that believed in myths, but never thought of researching about the veracity or consequences of such rituals and traditions.

Now, they pay the price.

"It's simple enough. Merfolk are magic creatures with magic properties, we have spells and witchcraft that you cannot even begin to imagine, and you broke the most forbidden of the tabooes; to share a heart without _love, consent, or permission_. For those that dare commit such an atrocity, a punishment is served, the spell is still cast, one that prolongates their life on and on, one that is _supposed_ to end when their other half, their soulmate reborn, is found." He watches Lotor's eyes widen, then narrow in distrust, probably doubting his every word.

He doesn't care.

"But since the ritual is one sided, since it's done without an agreement on both parts, the spell is incomplete and twisted to backlash, and thus, they will never find each other like it was intended, and the offending half will decay and rot until just a pile of bones and flesh remain. But their mind will still be attached to it, and it won't ever be able to leave or rest, cursed to stay forever, unable to complete the circle that would have sealed the enchantment." That's not all, but he's not going to tell Lotor about the true spell and what it does, he doesn't need to know more.

The only reason he's told the other anything is to relish on his horrified expression and the realization that everything he believes in is a lie.

It may seem cruel, but it's not, it's really not. They deserve this fate, they brough it upon themselves. His oldest relative is probably beginning to rot as they speak.

"You delved in too deep into something you don't understand, now your lineage will pay the price, this curse will never vanish." Lotor leans back and sits on his hunches, his eyes never leaving his own until he eventually averts his gaze, hand going into his pocket to pull something out. The human begins to fidget with it, glancing up from time to time as the moon rises, but never saying a word, just humming to himself and waiting.

Which is completely useless.

There is no need for the moon nor for him to be human for the spell -the true one- to work. It just so happened that, the first idiot who'd done this many, many decades ago, happened to do the ritual on a blood-red full moon, with the heart of a merfolk turned human. And thus, their manuscripts -in which they shared their experiences and results of their impromptu witchcraft- were left as a legacy with false, inaccurate information, which lead to the many many deaths of hundreds of merfolk over the years.

It's terrifying, really, what selfishness and the human's strong desire to believe can lead to. Because they wanted to believe that death could be defeated, cheated, skirted around, and that powerful belief was what lead to distrust and death, and, ultimately, what caused the two realms to grow further and further apart with time.

Take Lotor, for example. Even when he knows the truth, he refuses to acknowledge it, because he would rather think that he can live forever, than accept the fact that his days are numbered.

Such greed.

The sound of metal on metal brings him out of his musings, and he watches Lotor tinker with the same object he took out before, it's color shadowed by the dim lighting of the room and making it impossible to discernish what it is. Until the first rays of moonlight filter through the abode on the ceiling, illuminating the item and reflecting a pale, pink shine....

He sucks in a deep breath and tries not to cry. He would recognize that piece of jewelry crafted in pink gold anywhere, but he doesn't understand why it's here, why he has it. How?

Panic takes hold of his heart and he begins to wheeze, diverting the human's attention towards him, but he doesn't notice, he's too busy imagining the worst scenario. But it can't be, it can't be, not much time has passed, they couldn't have gotten a hold of her, there's no way.

"Where- where did you get _that_?" He tries to sound threatening and dangerous, angry too, but his voice comes out meek and pained, filled with the desperation that chokes him in every breath.

"Oh? You mean this?" The other's tone is amused as he twirls the small bracelet with his fingers, a black, obsidian stone settled in the middle as a small, white gem dangles from the side. "It's just a small....souvenir, you know. A proof of stubbornness and values....or more like, well, foolishness, in my honest opinion." Lotor smiles down at him, approaching the item so he can see it up close, seeming satisfied at the horror that's probably etched into his face.

"He was determined. Keith's brother, that is. When I asked for his help on capturing a mermaid, he refused my offer many, many times. I knew he could help me because he had this on his wrist, and he would look at it every time he denied me, spouting nonsense about morals and _love_. Useless emotions, if you ask me." Lance freezes, and a sudden, sorrowful realization washes over him, and the tears come, unbidden and hot as they fall down his cheeks.

 _Oh_.

Oh, Allura.

" When I finally had enough of his righteous babble and decided to imprison him, I tried to force him to tell me how to lure a merfolk out, if he wasn't going to help me, but he never relented, never reacted. Until I spoke of this bracelet, that is." He sniffs and gasps, teeth clenched as he snarls up at the Earl, something he seems to be doing a whole lot, lately.

" He fought tooth and nail to keep it safe, and I knew right then and there that it was important, maybe something that could aid me in what I wanted. But he opposed me, fought my soldiers and defeated them all, said that that bracelet wasn't getting off unless his arm went with it." Lotor's eyes crinkle and narrow into slits, his grin widening to sickening levels.

"So I cut it off." Lance gags and coughs, and wishes with all his heart that it didn't have to be like this. Why did Allura have to suffer too? Why did Keith's brother? Lotor hasn't only messed up Lance's and Keith's lives, but their loved one's happiness has been wrenched away, too. It's not fair, it isn't. Now, the longing looks and melancholic expressions Allura sported sometimes make sense, and his chest hurts when he thinks of the pain she'd going through.

Because he's feeling just the same.

Goddess, how he wishes Keith were here. He doesn't want to die alone with this creep, doesn't want his heart to be taken away by someone he holds nothing but hatred towards.

A hatred he's going to let the other know he holds in the next few seconds. "You _monster_ , you deserve whatever punishment befalls you after this. I would say I hope you rot in hell, but I know for a fact you're going to, so." He shrugs and looks challenging at the Earl, the other about to retort with a growl when an ominous, red light bathes the room in velvet, giving him the chills.

"Ah, it is time, little mer. Finally, I will become what I always deserved to be, eternal, everlasting, with enough time to raise an army and bring this world to it's knees." From behind his back, Lotor takes out a dagger, and he struggles against his bonds with renewed vigour, the glint of the blade menacing.

He tries his best to wiggle away, to move and wrestle so he can have some sort of chance. But the tip of the dagger keeps going downward steadily, following an invisible path towards his chest, right above his heart. His ears ring as terror overtakes him, and he doesn't even know if he's breathing anymore, he can only watch petrified as the dagger touches his skin, the tip digging into the muscle and tearing, making him bleed.

He follows a drop of blood as it falls down his chest and towards his belly, and a whimper escapes his lips when the metal digs deeper, followed by a scream when it doesn't stop, the pain unbeareable and scorching hot. He's not aware of anything going around him, not the human sitting on his legs, nor the swelling of his wrists as he frantically moves against his restraints, neither the screaming and noises going on around him.

In his mind, there's only pain.

Until there's not.

The burning that has been breaking him apart dulls to a low throb, aching with every breath, but no longer all-encompassing and numbing, and his senses return bit by bit as he gets a hold of himself, trying to gulp air like he's been drowning. It definitely feels like he has.

"-mon...have to- get outta- leave-im!" Fragments of words reach his ears, and he swears he recognizes that voice, slightly rough and raspy, but with an unmistakable tone that he will never be able to forget.

"....Ke-ith?" The voice stops, and he feels hands on his wrists as the restraints are cut away, careful fingers rubbing the inflamed skin there and soothing his aches, doing the same on his ankles a second later. He wonders why everything's so dark, why he can't see, and realizes that his eyes are closed, scrunched up from the pain that runs electric through his every nerve.

He fights against the need to remain in the comfort of darkness, where he's ignorant and aware of nothing, and struggles to open his eyes so he can make sure he's not dreaming, that he's not dead already and having a vivid fantasy of what he wishes had happened.

With much effort and feeling like the world is tilting on it's axis, he opens his eyes, wincing at the brightness that assaults them although it shouldn't bother him, because it's just the dim shine of the moon. He groans and turns on his side, covers his mouth with his -now free- hand and wills the nausea and dizziness to go away, taking deep breaths and feeling as his lungs expand.

While he does this, he notices that something is pressed against his chest, and he raises his other hand to touch it, coming in contact with rough, callused skin, the palm of a hand firmly pressed against -he guesses- the wound he received. He likes to think that he knows those hands too well to mistake them for anyone else's, but he swallows and looks up anyway, jittery and nervous and angry and a myriad of emotions that he can't name right now.

And there he is. Just as unfairly beautiful as he remembers, Keith.

His hair is disheveled and sticking up in many places, and his pale skin is smeared with caked blood, soot and dirt, giving him a haggard appearance. He's bleeding from his temple and has dark circles under his eyes, his swallow breaths speaking volumes of just how tired he is. Additionally, his clothes are torn and ripped up in places, and the hand that holds a sword dripping blood is trembling, barely maintaining it's grip.

He's hurt, he's exhausted -it's so obvious- but Keith's eyes never once leave his, he doesn't avert his gaze in cowardice or looks sideways in shame, he determinedly looks at Lance, _really_ looks at him, and shares with him the emotion swirling in his eyes.

It's breathtaking.

Well, things were easier when he was just mad. Now, though....he doesn't know if he wants to kill him, or kiss him, and the confusion is maddening.

"Keith? Wha- what are you doing here?" Keith opens his mouth, but before he has a chance to say something, a gruff, deep voice shouts from the distance, making Lance jump in surprise.

"Keith! C'mon, we have to go! We don't have all day!" He watches Keith roll his eyes, clearly exasperated and annoyed, and then he turns and screams back.

"I know that! I'm quite busy here, if you haven't noticed!" Rising from his horizontal position, he sits, allowing Keith's hand to remain on his chest for fear of bleeding again, and looks back towards where a muscular, tall, black haired guy drop kicks one knight and knocks him out, doing a backflip next and continuing to break mayhem amongst the soldiers.

"Holy mother of- _Who is that!?_ " He turns towards Keith, awaiting an answer, and the other stills and clears his throat uncomfortably, peeking at im through the corner of his eyes.

"That's....Shiro, my brother. He's the one that- he told me the-" Keith visibly swallows, the hand that rests against his chest tightening for a second, making him wince. "Sorry, sorry....he's the one that told me about what Lotor planned on doing, he...explained everything to me." Lance ' _ooooh_ '-es and narrows his eyes, still pissed, no matter how much he cares about Keith.

"That's all fine and dandy -thanks for the expression, Rolo- but what's going on? Why are you here? Why is _he_ here? I don't get this and-" Keith huffs and tugs him towards the edge of the slab he's currently sitting on.

"We don't have time for this, we need to go! Do you really want an explanation in the middle of battle?" He digs his heels onto the side of the rock-thing, and glares at Keith with all his pent up frustration and anger.

"Well, it would certainly be _appreciated_!" He yells back. His chest feels on fire -for more reasons than one- and he can't seem to stop the bubbling sensation of anger clawing it's way up his throat, making him spout nonsense because-he is just _so_ _mad_.

"We're in mortal peril! Do you really think now's the time?!" Keith looks at him, face red and mouth upturned, chest heaving as he takes in short, painful breaths.

"Oh, and when will it be the right time? When you disappear once again?" He snarls, the bite in his words becoming more and more real as he lets the hurt he feels seep into them, his eyes tearing up for reasons he cannot understand. Keith groans and snaps right back at him.

"You're insufferable!" His eyes burn.

"At least I'm not a _liar_ , mister _everything-I've-ever-told-you-was-fake_!" The sounds of battle continue to echo around them, but they might as well have been nonexistent, because it surely feels like a deathly silence has shrouded the room, leaving everything still and frozen.

Goddess, he wants to cry.

He didn't mean to lash out, or, or hit Keith where he knows it hurts the most. He's not so cruel or heartless, and he knows now it's not the right moment, he's just....he just _hurts_. He's aware that he's allowed to be mad, to be furious, to hold resentment and distrust towards Keith. But the other has feelings, too, he must have hurt, too, when he found out everything, when he realized that all his actions had been manipulated by Lotor, like a puppeteer drawing in the strings so he would dance to his tune.

He must have been devastated, and now he made it worse.

"Keith- I-" He barely gets to reply before the other interrupts him.

"No, you're right, Lance. You have every reason to hate me right now, what I did was inexcusable, and I understand if you can never bring yourself to forgive me, I deserve it. But...." Their eyes meet, and he feels the breath get caught in his throat.

"But I just want you to know, that for all the lies I've told...my love for you has never been one of them." And, oh, he _really_ wants to cry now, and maybe he does, it's kind of a blur. But he sees the truth in Keith's words and feels his hands shake as they help Lance stand, and everything else aside, he knows that, this time, there's no trace of deceit in his words.

They stand close to each other, so close he can feel Keith's body heat, and the moment feels like it could last forever....

Until it's shattered by someone's screaming.

"Stop your flirting and get the hell out of here!" He turns at the same time Keith does, stammering and barely dodging a sword to the chest, ducking to the right so he avoids the blow while Keith takes care of the soldier.

"We're not- do you really think- _Shiro_!" Keith screams, clearly flustered and embarrassed, but never losing his focus, twirling around and tripping a knight, using the momentum to flip the enemy who lands on his back with a yelp, remaining unmoving after.

Another one comes for Keith, but he sidesteps and grips the soldier's back, pushing one hand on the back of his neck and twisting, cutting off his airways and then slamming him onto the floor, leaving him out cold.

More and more knights and people keep entering the room, and he can see now where the soot on Keith's face comes from. It seems they set fire to the garden as a distraction, and it has spread all throughout the castle, finally reaching this same room. The smoke is rapidly seeping in, cloaking everything in gray mist as dust floats in the air, wich, is good news and bad news, since the enemy won't be able to see, but they won't be able to, either.

He keeps his sights on Keith, and notices that the other does the same, watching out for him and defeating any soldier that dares approach him, which is, honestly, quite gentlemanly of him, but also quite offensive. He can defend himself.

And to prove his point, when the next enemy gets close to him, he ducks the blow aimed at his head and whirls around as he crouches on the floor, then brings his hand up with all the force he can muster, heel of his palm up, and docks the other on the jaw. He takes the chance now that the soldier is stunned and sneaks his leg around their ankles at the same time that he rises, toppling them to the ground and planting his feet on their chest, pushing once and leaving when he knows they're unconscious.

He doesn't miss the awed, impressed look Keith gives him. Neither his reddened cheeks.

Sadly, he can't focus on him for much longer, enemies swarm him from every angle, and he fends them off as well as he can, using his teeth to tear skin, his fists and flexibility to punch and trip and anything he can reach to keep the soldiers away.

He's just finished beating a horde when something catches his eye.

In all honesty, he wouldn't have been able to see it if not for the fact that he'd recognize that glow anywhere. But, as it is, he catches sight of the pink shine through the thick layers of smoke, the obsidian gem reflecting the fiery red of the flames that lick the windows and walls.

He follows the direction it's pointed at, and his eyes land upon Keith, his back turned as he battles with a sturdy looking human, their weapon seeming big and heavy and making him struggle to attack, choosing to defend instead.

From the corner of his eye, he sees the glint of metal, and his clumsy feet carry him over to Keith before he can even think about what he's doing, ignoring the burns, the glass digging into his skin, the cuts and scrapes. He runs for all he's worth, with strength he didn't know he possessed, and with a last sprint and a deep shuddering breath, he throws himself at Keith, back to back, and, when the fire in his chest rekindles anew, he lets it consume him.

And he falls.

\--

He feels, more than he hears, the warmth of a body pressing against his back, and he knows without looking that it's Lance, probably warding off an enemy that got too close while he was occupied with this mass of muscle of a soldier. He's focusing on their weak points and slowly, but surely, overpowering them, and he's about to land the finishing blow, turn around and thank Lance for protecting him, even when he shouldn't.

But then the warmth that had been steadily pushing against him disappears, and a cold void is left in it's wake, filling his chest with dread as a thud echoes from behind him.

He wastes no time in taking out his current rival, and turns around so fast he gives himself whiplash, his eyes frantically searching for blue ones and tan skin, desperately calling his name.

When he finally finds him, the sight he stumbles upon makes him see red, like the flames slowly tearing the building apart. Lotor is dragging an unconscious, bleeding Lance through the floor by his arm, like a piece of garbage, an irritated but otherwise indifferent expression on his face.

He thinks he yells.

Maybe he screams profanities and death threats.

He doesn't know.

What he knows is that the next second he's jumping at Lotor's throat, sword in hand, and the Earl has to drop Lance in order to parry his blow, an expensive-looking, well-sharpened blade clutched in his hand.

The next few minutes pass in a frenzy. He slashes and pushes back, uses his momentum to jump over Lotor and attack him from the back, tries all his tricks and tactics and even underhanded methods to catch him off guard. But, as common and spoiled as the Earl looks and acts, he's well trained with a sword, and his technique rivals with those of the best knights he's come to know throughout his life.

The fight isn't easy, and he fears he's going to lose, but then a whimper from close by reaches him, a whisper that sounds like his name, and he feels invigorated and set alight, and he fights through his aching muscles and screaming joints and _pushes_.

He dodges to the right and throws an uppercut, then slashes at Lotor's middle and rounds to the left when the other deflects his blow, changing his sword to the other hand and using his fist to sock him on the jaw. Enraged, the Earl puts all his force into his blows, and that makes him more predictable, reckless. Lotor tries to stab him, but he sidesteps and, using his own force against him, grips the edge of the sword to keep him in place, jumps on his shoulders and crosses his legs around his neck, preventing him from breathing.

It barely takes a minute, and then Lotor's grip on his legs falter, hid face pales and his eyes roll back into his head, and he falls to the floor in a heap, completely still. He entertains the thought of finishing him off, cut his head or drive a sword through his heart, be rid of his foul existence once and for all. But he looks around him and at the unforgiving fire consuming everything, and decides to let it be the sealer of his fate.

He has more important things to take care of. Like Lance.

 _Lance_.

He looks left and right, coughs as smoke fills his lungs and walks a few unsteady steps forward before he finally sees him, slumped on the ground and not moving a muscle, laying in a pool of his own blood that stands out brighter than the flames around them.

"No, no, no no, please no." He runs, desperate and panicked, and drops to his knees with such force they sting and ache, but that doesn't matter, nothing matters but him. "Hey, hey, Lance, open you eyes for me, c'mon." He cradles Lance's head on his lap, thumb caressing his cheek, and watches as his chest rises and falls erratically, which fills him with relief.

But then his eyes land on the dagger sticking out of his torso, and he loses all air, all feeling and the ability to think. He's rooted to the spot as his thoughts go a mile per hour, swirling into a maelstrom of dread and horror- _what do I do - how do I help him - do I take it out? - no, no that'll make it worse - he's hurt - he needs help -help- I need- I need help._

"Shiro! _Help_!" He screams, voice hoarse and broken, and, in a matter of seconds, his brother appears from in between the smoke, broadsword in hand and looking rumpled and tired, but definitely alive and alert. He takes one good look at Lance in his arms and then glances at him, a questioning, pain-stricken look on his face.

"Keith, what happened?" Shiro kneels, inspecting the wound on Lance's chest and cursing lowly under his breath.

"It was- it was Lotor, I thought he was out cold or-or had run away but he didn't and- he got to Lance, he, he stabbed him and dragged him away like he was- like, and he wasn't moving, he's- _what do I do, Shiro_?" His brother levels him with a calm look, nodding his head and resting his ear above Lance's heart. He looks like he's focusing really hard and Keith realizes he's listening for a heartbeat, for breath, and he prays to any god or deity out there to let him find one. _Please, please_.

A shaky, relieved sigh. "Okay, okay, he's alive, he's still breathing." Shiro's words make him tremble in a sort of terrified relief that leaves him reeling, and since his body is not cooperating with him right now, he just stays quiet and watches as his brother pats Lance's cheek, trying to rouse him from unconsciousness.

There's a small groan and then a whimper, and his heart skips a beat as he waits -prays, hopes- for blue eyes to open. And against all odds, they do.

"Ugh.....wha-" Lance's voice is wrecked, and it's obvious he's in pain, his nose scrunches up and his brows furrow, and the breaths he lets out are swallow and quick, but he's alive. He's alive, and that's all that matters right now.

"Shiro, what do we do? The wound- is he-?" Shiro bites his lip, and regards him with some sort of pained look, body tense and ready to snap at the slightest inkling of danger.

"I don't know, we- I'm not qualified to take care of such a wound, I could make it worse, and looking for a doctor on this town is going to be impossible, Lotor's goons are everywhere, they won't let us go far. And moving him for extended periods of time is not a good idea." Keith pales and his grip on Lance tightens unconsciously, he can't just do _nothing_ , he's there, in his arms, breathing and alive and he needs to keep it that way.

He won't fail him a second time.

"I can only think about one thing, but I don't- I don't know if it'll work." He gasps, his gaze switching to Shiro, he's eager, desperate, doesn't care what he has to do as long as Lance is safe. He knows that's the mindset that created all this mess in the first place, but right now his mind is only filled with Lance; Lance's smile, Lance's voice, Lance's touch, Lance's laugh, Lance's blue eyes, Lance, Lance, _Lance_.

"I'll do anything, _anything_ , just tell me!" His brother hesitates, he can see it, but eventually steels himself and begins speaking, the roar of the fire around them almost deafening.

"Allura once told me that....sometimes, wounded, shifted merfolk, if left adrift to drown on the sea, could heal from their injuries and recover with time." He feels his own eyes widen, hope blooming on his chest, but then Shiro continues, and that hope withers and dies. "There is a price to pay, though. The sea recognizes what they once were, one of it's creatures, and, alongside healing their wounds, it completely undoes their change, turning them back to their original form, making it....irreversible. This time forever." That's okay, Keith can deal with that, he's loved Lance before he became human, he'll still love him even if they can't live together, even if they can just see each other sometimes.

If Lance still wants to see him, that is.

"You have to understand that the ocean is akin to a sentient, living being, Keith. Its filled with magic, and it's not stupid, it won't take kindly to those that hurt its children. After returning them to their original form, reasoning that it was the surface and those on it that hurt its child, the ocean will cast a spell, one that will make the land feel like a poison to that person, one that will make them unable to ever breach the surface and leave the depths of the ocean." A lump rises in his throat, and he feels like he might cry, but he's been selfish enough, he's done enough damage.

This time, he'll make things right, Lance deserves better.

"You won't see him ever again if this works, Keith." He knows, god, does he know. And the though of never seeing him again hurts more than the bleeding wounds he sports, but a world without Lance is something he doesn't think he wants to live through. As long as he knows he's okay and living happily somewhere, he will be able to move on, he'll endure and shoulder the consequences of his actions, and pray that wherever he is, Lance is smiling.

"At least he'll be alive, that's all that matters to me." And it is, _it is._

Shiro pins him with a pitying, sorrowful look, and he's about to tell him to stop-

"There they are! Seize them!" Overlapped voices and the sound of clinking metal echo around them, and Shiro stands up with his back to him, catching a stray sword nearby and planting his feet on the ground with such force the sound carries.

"Go, Keith. I'll hold them back." The icy grip of fear gets hold of his heart again, and he shakes his head, he can't lose him again, he can't. Not after every single mistake and bad choice he's made to get where they are. If something happens to Shiro, he won't be able to forgive himself.

"Keith, you don't have time. He....he doesn't have time. If you want to save him, you need to go _now_." He looks down at Lance, who is struggling to open his eyes and whimpering in pain. " Don't worry about me, you know how stubborn I can get. I'll beat them halfway to hell and follow after you, okay? Don't hesitate, little brother, listen to your heart, and do what you think is right." The _'Don't make the same mistake twice'_ goes unsaid, but he hears it loud and clear.

And, for a moment he ignores everything around him, the noises, the fire, the stench of blood and ash, the red rays of light slowly disappearing and plunging the room into darkness, and focuses only on the merman slowly dying in his arms.

And he remembers every flutter of his heart, every caress of skin, every loving word whispered on his ear and trembling fingers interlocking with his own. He remembers feeling light and content, remembers his nights being filled with nightmares that vanished as soon as he caught sight of that smile, remembers longing burning under his skin and a feeling so intense he couldn't describe it with words.

He remembers finally feeling alive, and he remembers love.

And his choice is made. This time with no regret. Because it's his decision, not forced upon him or brought on by desperation, but coming from the deepest corners of his heart, where Lance has made a place for himself that nobody else will ever be able to fill.

He jumps to his feet, cradling Lance in his arms, and prepares to make a run for it, locking gazes with Shiro one last time. His brother nods and smiles, and he returns his own shaky grin, hoping it conveys his _'Stay safe, don't be reckless_ ', no matter how hypocritical of him, since he's usually the rash, impulsive one.

Turning around and looking for a window, he begins to run, never looking back, and jumps trough the jaded crystal of torn apart stained glass towards the blazing inferno outside. He lands on his feet after falling a distance and hisses when his legs protest the movement, his eyes taking in the -almost completely charred and destroyed- garden.

In between the flames and cinder, he tries to remember the way to the beach, and when he can't seem to make head or tails on what direction to take, he choses a random one and runs, feeling his legs die with every step, but refusing to stop.

"Keith? Wha-" Lance voice startles him out of his focused stride, and he looks down at him, watching as the blood keeps falling down his chest and drips to the floor.

"What happened? Where is- where's Lotor?" Lance coughs, the sound rattling his chest, his body feeling frail and delicate in his arms as he shakes with every wheeze. He sees his eyes beginning to close, a small trail of blood flowing from his lips and down his jaw, and he panics.

He lightly shakes the merman and pleads for him to _stay, don't sleep, please don't sleep, just talk to me, stay awake, don't stop talking, yeah? Lotor's gone now, you don't have to worry._

"He was....an idiot, that guy. Did- did Shiro tell you- what he wanted to do?" He nods, half listening to him half paying attention to his surroundings, which were looking more and more charred and ashen by the second.

"Yeah, something about....inmortality." Lance snorts, then proceeds to cough his lungs out.

"Y-yeah, that. Immortality does not exist, I t-told him that. What he was trying to do w-was, basically, curse himself, just li...ke his predecessors had..." He hears Lance heave and groan, one of his hands clutching Keith's tattered shirt in a tight grip.

"You-you know, the immortality thing c-comes from...an actual spell. It was one m-meant to make star-crossed lovers, so-soulmates, be able to find each other a-again through time and space, for all et...ernity." Lance's breaths get swallow and painful sounding, and he just wants to stop and hold him tight and say everything will be alright.

But he can't, he has a purpose, and he'll be damned if he fails. He won't.

"I-it was a promise...for those that shared tr-true love, to rendezvous time and time again when they....were reborn. The only downside was, t-that the half that performed the ri-tual would have to....prove their feelings were true, never o-once forgetting their partner or the love they held for....the..other. A....a....tri...al." His voice trails off, and, for a moment, he's afraid Lance has stopped breathing.

But then he gags and whimpers, the sounds like a dagger to his chest -and oh, isn't that a convenient metaphor- burning and heartbreaking.

"Their time....w-would be...frozen for...an...undeter-mined amount...as the world...contiued to spin and grow....around the-m. They had t-to prove...-a shaky breath- that they could endure a-and wait...for their...other half...to appear...always-always holding onto the...emotions....they sha...red." The hand on his chest tightens to the point of hurting, and he clenches his jaw and holds back the need to scream, because Lance is in pain, and he can do nothing, _nothing_.

"I-if they for-forgot and fai...led, the spell wo-uld fade away with ti-time, and they....would go their separate wa-ys. But if they co-comple...ted the tri...al, if they we...re....successful, they would even....tualy find each other, a-and the circle would be complete....-a sigh-...making them me-eet throughout the ages, a-always...falling in love, always...drifting....towards a destiny....together." He nods, absentminded, squinting through the foliage when he thinks he sees a clearing, his own breaths sounding unusually loud in his ears.

His arms burn, and his legs feel like they might fall off, his whole body aches and stings from the cuts and scrapes, and he feels like his lungs aren't getting enough air, his brain refuses to work. He would love nothing more than to drop to the ground and rest, sleep for a whole year and not move a muscle, it feels like even his nerves hurt and the blood in his veins is molten lava, warming his insides uncomfortably and making him suffocate.

He doesn't understand how he's still standing, still running, what keeps him upright.

A voice on the back of his head says it's love. It sounds suspiciously like Shiro.

"I-it...was...my favorite...story as a...youngling... always wanted...to find my promised one...and when we were meant...to part ways...old...and worn...do the ritual....and....and....never let go...." The emotion on Lance's voice makes a lump get stuck on his throat, and his eyes feel wet when he blinks, but he refuses to cry.

_I don't deserve it. I have no right to cry, I caused this. It's all my fault._

"Nobody...outside of merfolk...knows about this....and Lotor and his...family...had it all wrong. There was no love when they...killed their partner in...cold blood....stole their...hearts....and took them...for themselves. So the...spell...t-turned into a...curse. They turned...Droja...horrible....scarred beings that....will wander the earth...alone....until the end of tim...e...their bodies decayed....and crumbling...unmoving... but damned to stay forever with no chance...at free-doom..." He knows he shouldn't feel satisfaction at hearing that. But knowing that those people had been punished with the worst of fates brings him a relief he doesn't even understand.

Maybe he just wants someone to punish him, too, take away the guilt.

"They should have....really...checked where their...info was...coming from..."He waits for Lance to continue, running faster when the sound of waves reaches his ears, a small, hopeful smile slowly blooming on his face at the prospect of the sea.

The sea. Lance's savior.

But as he breaks through the bushes and wilderness, as his feet sink on the sand and his eyes finally catch a glimpse of blue, as hope and relief begin to fill his chest, he notices that Lance hasn't spoken again, and he gasps and looks down, terrified.

And nearly cries at the sight.

Lance is way too pale, his tan skin looking ashen and his lips nearly white. His chest is covered with blood that seeps through the makeshift bandages Shiro had put on him, and it slowly drips downward to Keith's hands and clothes. His eyes are closed, mouth parted slightly, hands hanging loosely at his sides and long hair tangled around both of them, the edges burnt and uneven.

He looks devoid of all life.

He looks dead.

"No, no, no, no..." He walks forwards almost on autopilot, dropping to his knees where the water covers his ankles, and cups Lance's cheek with his hand, fingers caressing the now cold skin that becomes icyer as the seconds tick by. "Hey, hey, open your eyes please, we're here. You're home." He pats his cheek, his forehead, rests his hands on his neck as he looks for a pulse, squeezes his body as close to him as he can, willing his body heat, whatever warmth he's received from Lance in all this time, to flow back into him.

He nearly misses it when his eyelashes flutter and a small, feeble breath escapes his lips. But he doesn't, and the small motion loosens the knot that had formed on his throat, choking him, and lets him know there's still time, he can make things right.

"C'mon Lance, let's go, I'll- I'll drop you here, into the water and- and you'll go home, okay? Everything will be fine..." He trails off when he sees blue eyes open, looking up at him blearly and with a sad, amused smile stretching his lips, his voice nothing but a whisper as he speaks, nearly drowned by the deafening sound of the crashing waves.

"I apreciate...the sentiment, but....I think Allura forgot to tell Shiro....an important piece...of information..." A choked laugh escapes Lance, his breaths almost silent now. "That- what she said...it only works if the wounded m...merfolk in question wants to go back, if...if they regret ever shifting and....leaving home..." He opens his mouth, a retort on the tip of his tongue, but then the words register and he stills. He can't breathe, he can't-

"If they wish to...to never have left, if....they regret that choice w-with every fiber of...their being....if they reject the...surface and everything that lives within....they can go back....back home...one last chance...." Lance's eyes never stray from his own, and he feels like he's trying to convey something with his gaze alone, but he refuses to see it, denies with all his heart, because it's not possible, Lance can't- not after everything that's happened- not after everything he's done to him-

"But.....but....I don't regret it one bit, Keith...I don't-" Keith screams.

"How can you say that? How can you not regret coming here? It wasn't even _your_ choice! I forced you, tricked you! I tore you away from everyone you cared for and used you to get what I wanted! And look how you ended up! Hurt, bleeding, betrayed and- and alone! Just- just-" He gasps, his throat itching from overuse and his breath hitching with every word that leaves his lips.

"Just think you wish you hadn't left! Think hard about all the bad things and- and how much of a horrible person I've been and all the lies I've told you! Think of-of how I betrayed you and took advantage of you and how everything -he wheezes- e-everything I've ever said was fake! Remember all of that and _hate me_! Hate that you chose to believe in me, regret ever giving me a chance! Feel disgusted and angry and mad and- and wish you hadn't ever met me and- _go home_!" He's close to suffocating by the time he ends his rant, but he just wants Lance to understand, to stop speaking nonsense.

 _Of course_ he wants to go back home, of course he doesn't want anything to do with the surface. He's just delirious and confused, but soon enough he'll remember everything with enough clarity, and glance at Keith with disappointment and pity and revulsion.

And then he'll be able to send him home, he'll be okay, it'll be fine.

Fingertips on his cheek make his reeling mind stop, the smooth, damp skin of a blood soaked hand running down his cheekbone to his jaw, cupping the side of his face and caressing the skin there, lightly wiping soot from one of his bruises. A thumb runs gently along the bag of his eye, then his eyelid and eyebrow, dipping carefully to his nose and then his lips, tenderly pressing them before stopping at his chin.

The touch grounds him, brings him back to reality, makes his panicked thoughts come to a sudden halt. And, like a moth to the flame, he feels drawn to Lance, to look at him even when he knows that what he's going to see is going to destroy him.

But he looks anyway. And the radiant, bittersweet, yearning smile etched on Lance's too pale face makes something crack inside him, expanding like spiderwebs and leaving the very foundations of him shaking, threatening to crumble under the weight of the emotions in his oh-so-blue eyes.

"I don't regret loving you." And then he breaks, the tears begin to fall, and he feels like the most precious thing he's ever held in his arms is slipping away, and it's no one's fault but his own.

"Please....please don't say that....hate me...despise me....I just.....want you to live..." His breath hitches and he hiccups pathetically. He tries to restrain the tears and halt the tremors that rake his body, but it's useless, he's not in control anymore, and the grief his mind feels seeps into his body and makes him move without conscious thought.

He embraces Lance to his chest, cradles his fragile form and holds on tight, clutching the hand on his own cheek in a desperate grip with his eyes closed tight, because he doesn't want to see this, he can't do this, he can't take another death, another loved one leaving him behind.

He blames himself, and no one else. If only he'd thought things through, if only he hadn't been such an idiot, if only he'd been smarter, stronger, faster, and less of a human wreck.

He would chose his own death over this anytime.

God knows he deserves it.

"Hey...hey...don't say that..." Oh.....he said that out loud. He gasps, choking on his own tears, and there's a breath, so close to his own, whispered words that lack strength and that brightness he loves so much.

" No matter what could've happened...I....I would take this dagger for you again in a...heartbeat. It wasn't a conscious thought...or...or something I pondered and did....I just....my body moved...on it's own, because my mind knew what I felt...and how much it would have broken me if you died....." He listens, trying to control his swallow breathing and ignore the wetness rapidly coating his tights and chest. He's afraid of opening his eyes, of what he'll see, so he keeps them firmly shut.

If he doesn't see it, it's not real, it's not there, it's not definite. He can still hope.

"Because....there's no spell on your heart.....there's no meeting you again or-or....another chance. But....with me....we...can...." His resolve goes out the window and his eyes snap open wide. He glances down before he can talk himself out of it, horrified and frantic, he feels on the verge of hysteria as a grimace twists his face into something that probably looks a mixture between pained and sickened.

A teardrop lands on Lance's ashen cheek, Keith still hasn't stopped sobbing like a child.

"Wha...t....Lance, what do you- no- I could never- I won't!" He can't even entertain the idea, it makes him sick to his stomach. Anything but this, _please_ , anything but this.

"Listen...listen Keith...I....I love you....I really do....but it's clear we were not meant to be in this time.....but I....I'm slefish...I don't want to let go....And if...if you love me too....if you believe it's real and- and you want to see me again...then- then...." Lance looks up at him with affection he doesn't deserve, and the thumb he rests on Keith's cheek swipes his tears away gently, with a tenderness that makes his chest ache.

"Please....take my heart.....it was already...yours...anyway...." The sound he lets out is nothing short of a wail, and he curls around Lance like he can protect him that way, like he can stop his blood from flowing out and life fade from his eyes.

"I can't... _I can't_....how do you expect me to- I dont want to hurt you!" He weeps.

"I'm not going to...force you....this is risky...if you're not...sure of what you feel....you'll wander the earth for many years to come, maybe even decades or centuries.....until we either meet again...or the spell wears off..." Lance tilts his head and glances away then, getting a far away look in his eyes that shows his mind is elsewhere, his left hand dipping in the water and letting the tide run over his fingers.

"You...you know...it was...one of my dreams to....to find my soulmate....to have...have my happy ending...." Lance sighs and drops his head on his chest, seeming out of energy, his body limp and still, devoid of all his exaggerated gestures and lively expressions.

"I'll give it to you, I promise, _I promise_. Anything you want. So please, _stay_." He's run out of time, and he knows, it. Lance is dangerously pale, and his lips are devoid of all color, the bags under his eyes prominent and dark purple, looking almost like bruises. His breaths are so swallow he has to strain to hear them, and the beating of his heart is slow and fading.

Lance's life is slipping through his fingers, right before his eyes, and he can't bring himself to do the only thing that will give them a chance. Because for him, it's no chance at all, it's complete and utter failure. It means he wasn't able to protect him, that he wasn't able to repent for his mistake and set things right, it means Lance's death.

He's run out of options, but his hands still won't move, won't cooperate, he can't-

Nimble fingers intertwine with his own, and bring his hand down to grip the handle of the dagger still sticking out of Lance's chest. He can't swallow the gasp that leaves his lips, or the sudden nausea that rises, his throat burning like he's gulped down lava, scorching him inside out.

"C'mon Keith....please....we can...we can turn this...' _farewell'_ into a...' _see you later_ ', I don't....I don't want it to end like this....I don't...want to say goodbye....I want...want to see you again....You...you promised me my happy...ending...yeah? This...this is the only way...." His hand trembles as he holds the dagger, scared to move for fear of hurting him more than he already is.

He's frozen, he's terrified.

"I can't, I can't- I- I don't want to hurt you!" He hears the other chuckle, faint and breathy.

"It's okay....here....follow my...lead..."Lance positions Keith's fingers so his grip on the dagger is more firm, then points with his own fingers the path's he needs to follow. "The blade is...already deep enough, you only have to...m-move in a straight line, downards....and then....take it...and eat....eat half of it...." He's panicking and trembling and he can't believe he's doing this, this is not what he wanted, he never wished for anyone to get hurt, how could he'd been so naive? Why hadn't he tried harder? Why does he always mess up? Why is he such a mess? Why do others have to suffer for his mistakes? Why-?

Why did fate curse Lance to fall in love with him?

He shrieks and brings the dagger all the way down, the scream that tears itself from Lance's throat hurting him like he's just stabbed his own chest, instead of the other's. Blood immediately begins flowing out of the cut that's as long as his palm, syrupy and abundant, dying the sand around them and his clothes in a dark velvet color.

He takes a breath.

The dagger falls from his hand.

He looks at his palms covered in red, red, red, dripping endlessly, steadily-

He screams. Feels his throat tearing and going raw from the force of it, feels the tears fall again and the horror take hold of his heart, his lungs, his mind-

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-" There's a hand on his own again. It takes his away from where it's tearing his own hair out and guides it so it rests right above the wound he just caused, pressing down gently but with purpose. The hand squeezes once, twice.

And then the voices and sounds he hadn't even noticed had been muted reach his ears again, and he's forced to listen to Lance's ragged, fading breaths and the pained whimpers he gurgles. He feels like a monster.

How could he do this, how could-?

"Ke-..ith, if you're...hav'ng...doubt..s....you ca' still....back....ou..t..." He shakes his head, the steady, growing warmth under his palm bringing him back, grounding him. He gulps in air and forces his heart to slow down, his body to stop trembling, and his mind to clear so he doesn't mess up the most important thing in his life.

"No. _No_. I'll deal with whatever consequences this brings. I- if I have to wait for- for centuries to see you again, I will, _I will_ , no matter what. And if I don't find you, if we were not meant to be, let that loneliness be my punishment, for all the ways I wronged you, for all the treason and pain I caused, for the life I stole from you."

"I just hope, if-if I don't make it to you...that wherever you end up, you-you find happiness. I would endure all the loneliness and pain and sorrow for all that a thousand lifetimes last, if it meant you got to have a bright, radiant future ahead of you." Lance lets out a choked sob, and nuzzles his head on his chest, his long hair shining blue with the fading rays of the waning moon.

"Are...a-re those...yo-your bows...for the...s-spell?" Lance weeps, his eyes half closed. " That's....t-that's....so...cheesy...." He feels the urge to laugh hysterically, and just lets out a wet sob instead. He can't seem to stop crying no matter what he does, it feels like his emotions have taken control of both his body and mind, he's never felt so useless before.

"W-when I...I'm gone....le..t...me, drift...I-into...the sea....please...." To go back home. To give his sister, his family, something to mourn over, something to say goodbye to. He understands the feeling, Shiro had done the same for him with his parents, cousins, friends, and everyone else that died and left him behind.

Just like right now.

Although, this time, it's going to be his choice, and he's not going to be left behind.

He's going to be left _waiting_.

"Do...it....Keith." Lance still pronounces his name like 'kessu', a habit he hasn't gotten rid of. And as he dips his hand into the opening on Lance's chest, he leans in and presses his lips against his, softly, tenderly, afraid that the other will break if he pushes harder. He tastes salt and iron and ash, and wishes that their first -and last- kiss wouldn't have to be like this, wishes his past self hadn't taken that contract and signed it, wishes he hadn't met Lance at all.

His hand makes contact with flesh, and his fist closes around it. He opens his eyes and watches Lance's eyelashes flutter as a deep, blissful expression washes over his features, his lips weakly pushing against Keith's in what he knows is permission, determination, a plea and a prayer altogether, an answer to the question always on the tip of his tongue.

 _Do it._ It says.

And he does.

He yanks with all his might and closes his eyes against the spray of blood that rains over him, still kissing Lance for all he's worth, afraid to let go, afraid to look at the end result of what he's done. There's a faint breeze that brings with it the smell of flowers and burning wood, and it shadows the scent of iron and salt for a while, ruffling his hair and rising goosebumps on his exposed skin.

He rises slowly, and gradually opens his eyes, dreading the sight that'll welcome him.

Under him, Lance lays still, eyes closed and mouth slightly parted. His hair is dipping into the water, gently being caressed by the waves and his pale, almost translucent skin is glimmering with pinpricks of light, making him shine like a gem. His lips no longer look bloodless, but are a deep red instead, as if painted with his own blood, and his -previously- sunken eyes are lined with a sky blue that drips a trail down his cheek, the marking looking like scales.

There's no trace of any of the blood that had coated every inch of Lance's body and the sand around him, and he looks peaceful, almost....almost like he's sleeping. There's a dim, blue glow coming from close by, illuminating the merman's face and giving him an ethereal, almost otherworldly look. It takes him a second to notice that said glow is coming from his own hand.

The hand that holds the most precious thing to him.

Lance's heart.

Which stopped looking like one as soon as it was out of his chest, and now resembles a crystal blue peach, glimmering with starlight and blue swirls akin to whirlpools, dripping a glitter like liquid all over his palm.

If he didn't know any better, he would have thought it was poisonous.

As it is, though, he would have eaten it anyway.

He cradles the heart close to his chest, and relishes on the warmth of it, the steady pulsing against his palm and the tickling sensation that the liquid gives his skin. It almost feels like a rumble, like a purr, beckoning him close, asking for lips to tear it's flesh away and unite both their destinies forevermore.

Before he listens to that plea, before he makes the warmth disappear, he leans in close to Lance one more time and brings their lips together, lets the tears fall down his dirt covered cheeks for the last time and whispers a broken _'I love you'_ onto his neck as he caresses his sparkling skin.

Then he leans away, takes in the beauty of his first and only love, lets the image get ingrained into his mind, and, with a choked _'See you later'_ he bites onto the fruit, and lets Lance's life essence mingle with his own.

He tastes the ocean.

\--

When he comes to -an undetermined amount of time later- he's still kneeling on the sand, and the stars have begun to vanish as the sun peeks from behind the mountains and hills, signaling the dawn of a new day. Lance is nowhere to be seen, and he vaguely remembers a burning pain setting his nerves alight and freezing the blood on his veins at the same time, leaving him dazed and fuzzy, but still aware enough to do one last thing before fading.

He'd held Lance into his arms and walked with him towards the sea, waiting until the water touched his waist to stop. He'd nuzzled his cheek with his nose and knocked their foreheads together, fleetingly kissing his lips before lowering him, letting him sink beneath the surface with a murmured _'Go back home'._

He remembers how hard it'd been to let go, to let him drift away and lose sight of the face that had smiled at him with such open affection and raw love. And how, as soon as he'd vanished under the tranquil waters, after a minute of deathly silence, the ocean had roared, crashing against him, forcibly trying to tear him apart from the place Lance belonged to.

Wave after wave pushed him towards the shore, away from Lance, away from his angry guardian who was probably punishing him in it's grief, the strength of it's pull akin to a scream that said _'Don't come close to me or my children ever again'_. It was both a warning and a threat, _'The ocean does not take kindly to those that hurt it's children'_ , Shiro had said, and he'd understood that he was no longer welcome, no longer trusted.

He'd understood why, known why, and complied.

He'd sat on the sand, looking at the raging storm unfolding before him, and waited as black slowly seeped into his vision, slowly, but surely, swapping his sight away from him, the pain a steady thrumming that ran from his forehead down his chest and all the way to his fingertips.

He'd been out in a matter of minutes.

Which brings him to the present, still sitting on the shore, feeling sore, tired and....numb. It's like the world has lost its brightness and appeal and everything looks dull and uninviting, worthless. He knows it's not like that, that it's probably just his own brain mourning, but knowing that doesn't make his heart hurt less when he looks at the sky and remembers baby blue eyes.

It takes a second for him to pull up the image of Lance laughing in mirth, and he panics when his mind struggles to do so, thinking that he's already forgetting, but it's most probably his fatigue and fried brain just trying to comply with his wishes in the exhausted state he's in.

He should probably get up, go somewhere and take care of his wounds and find Shiro -gods, he hopes he's okay- but he's rooted to the spot, frozen staring out at the place in which he'd said goodbye to Lance, the last place where he'd seen his face. He doesn't have the will to move, and his body is not going to cooperate either, with it's muscles all tense and cramping and his limbs feeling like jelly, completely useless.

But, thankfully, he doesn't have to. A familiar voice sounds from far away and screams of his name are carried by the wind, the tone frantic and hurried as they reach his ears.

"Keith! Keith! Were are you?" He wants to answer, but his voice is wrecked. It might be because he'd screamed his lungs out before, after letting Lance go, but his memories are hazy and blurry, and he only remembers the important bits, the ones that have to do with his love, so he doesn't know. Not really.

He only knows that his throat is raw and it burns when he tries to speak, and he barely manages to croak his brother's name before coughs overpower him, and he has to stop to fight for breath.

"Keith! Keith! Kei- Oh god there you are." Footsteps approach him quickly, and a thud sounds close by. Then there's a hand on his shoulder that moves onto rubbing his back, the motions familiar and calming, making it easier to gulp in the air he desperately needs. "You scared the heck out of me, little brother, don't do that." He wheezes for a few seconds, and then looks up into the worried eyes of his brother, not knowing what kind of expression he's making, but guessing by the one in Shiro's face it must be a devastated, grief-filled one.

"Keith, what happened? Is Lance- did you- is he back home?" _No. Yes. I don't know, I hope he is._

He wants to say a million things and none at all, wants to tell Shiro everything he knows and loves about Lance and remain silent and never mention him again. Just uttering his name hurts, and he has the sudden, silly realization that Lance wasn't even his real name, it was just a nickname he'd told Keith so he could pronounce it easier.

God, it's only been- what, a few hours? And he already wants to curl up into a ball and cry.

He won't last the lifetime that awaits him if he can't pull himself together.

He shakes his head and chokes out something resembling a ' _He's gone_ ', but the sounds he produces are so wretched and broken he doesn't even know how Shiro manages to understand him. But he does, and his brother's eyes turn sorrowful and compassionate as he leans in and hugs him tight to his chest, his one arm having a grip strong enough to make him feel safe and grounded for now.

"I'm so, so sorry Keith....This is all my fault, if only I didn't get caught, if only I'd been stronger...this would have never happened. You forced yourself to do horrible things just to find me, I was careless and oblivious to the danger and messed up. I caused you to lose someone you held dear. And that's something I will never forgive myself for." He wants to scream at him that no, it wasn't his fault, not getting captured, nor getting hurt and tortured, and neither the choices he made and the consequences they spawned.

Those are on him.

In another world, he might have refused Lotor's offer, he might have decided to continue looking on his own, and the Earl might have threatened him with his brother's life, revealing the lie and façade. In another world, he might have faked working for him to ensure Shiro's safety, and asked the first merfolk he found for help, and they might have worked together to bring him down.

In another world, they might have defeated Lotor together, rescued Shiro, and the friendship he'd developed with the merman might have grown to be something more with time, as they learnt things about each other and found themselves getting closer.

In another world, they might have had a happy ending, because he'd made the right choice.

Sadly, this is not that world, and he has to face the reality that he chose wrong, and now he has to reap what he'd sown.

"Keith, hey, look at me." He does, he looks up through blurry eyes and watches Shiro smile ruefully at him, his hand ruffling through his locks like he's trying to calm him down, which is appreciated but unneeded. He can't feel nothing.

"The sun's rising, and the remaining knights will sweep this area looking for us, we need to leave. Let's go back home." He stares and blinks, and thinks of home and the garden, and Lance's face when he'd been smelling the flowers and dancing around them, looking like a nymph, graceful and gorgeous, with an ethereal air that had made him seem godly.

It seems he stares for far longer than he expected, because Shiro is beginning to look worried. So he gives him a tiny nod, and gets to his feet, shaky and weak and ready to fall over. He looks around once before leaving, and his eyes land on a piece of cloth stuck to the sand, being blown by the breeze.

His arm unconsciously reaches for it, feeling drawn to it, remembering a lithe body being swaddled by layers of it, smooth tan skin peeking from where the fabric unfolds and opens, long legs moving back and forth with enthusiasm.

A hand prevents him from crouching down and getting it, and a whine escapes his throat before he can stop it, his trembling fingers aching for it. But then Shiro's figure kneels on the sand and picks up the cloth, handing it to him with a whisper of an apology, then resting the palm of his hand on Keith's back and gently pushing him forward, towards the path back home.

It takes them longer than necessary to reach their house, and it's mostly because he feels like he's going to keel over right then and there, but he never says anything, doesn't want to bother Shiro or make him overextert himself even more. Because he's sure if he says he can't walk anymore, his brother, stubborn and gentle as he is, will tell him with a smile that he'll carry him.

And that won't do. He must be tired too, hurting too.

He won't be selfish ever again. That's something he's sure about.

So he puts one foot after the other, his steps wobbly and unsure, and keeps walking, keeps going forward with Shiro's hand as his guide. He blinks, and it feels like it's just been a second, but suddenly he looks around and they're in their backyard, surrounded by flowers and chirping birds and many other creatures that wake up to begin a new day.

"C'mon, let's go in. They won't fins us here, they'll probably be looking for us on our fake home back in the city." Shiro leads him through the door and the familiar, indistinct smell of ' _home_ ' hits him hard, making his knees tremble and his breath hitch. Lance's bouquet sill rests on the windowsill, now withered and grey, and there's still some leftover incense from where he'd burnt some a few days ago.

His clothes and weapons are strewn all around alongside documents, empty dishes, books and trash that he hadn't bothered to take out. Dust and grime cover most of the available surfaces on the house, and he hears the groan of disgust that Shiro huffs, clearly displeased with the state of their home.

Cleaning hadn't been in between his list of priorities these last few months, neither had been eating or sleeping, which can be seen by the -still full- storeroom and his neatly made bed who looks like it hasn't been touched in days. Which it hasn't.

"Go ahead and take a nap, Keith. I'll keep watch." He plans to say no, to stay awake and make sure no one ambushes them while they are vulnerable. But he can't fight his brother's insistent pushes or the chastising, worried looks he sends him, so he obeys and sits on the edge of the bed, pondering what to do now.

He doesn't have time to do that, though.

As soon as he's not moving anymore, his body shuts down and he drops like a rock, head landing on the pillow as he falls sideways, struggling against the pull of darkness that sneaks it's tendrils around his body and mind, lulling him to sleep.

He has a second to feel scared and horrified, and then the pull grows stronger and he fades.

The nightmares that follow are shocking and frightening, but not unexpected.

He takes them as they come, it feels like penitence.

 


	5. The end (The beggining)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter!! With this we reach the end of this particular story. When i wrote this i wanted to try a different style to see how i did and also write from Keith's pov, since i usually do only Lance, and i'm quite proud of the result, if i say so myself.
> 
> This fic was meant to be bittersweet but with a happy ending, and here i fulfill that promise and deliver to you the finale in which our boi Keith finally gets what he's being waiting for. Get the tissues ready, and enjoy <3.
> 
> A huge thank you to everyone who read, commented, suscribed, bookmarked or left kudos, you guys are the best, as always. And remember, comments keep the writters going, they keep us happy and inspire us to write more (as much as our schedule lets us), so drop a comment if you have the time!
> 
> You can share yout thoughts or what you liked best, a line that got you or a scene that made you cry/laugh, something that was unexpected or even just a scream! I will always scream back, promise :D
> 
> (Goes back to work on re:DO)

* * *

The next time he wakes up, is to a fully-cleaned house, the windows open to let in the morning breeze, the smell of flowers wafting up his nose and Shiro humming a little tune as he cooks something in their small kitchen. He looks down at himself and sees that his blood-soaked, torn up clothes have been changed into some comfy pajamas, and whatever wounds he'd sustained have been patched up and taken care of.

His mind is still reeling from all the nightmares he's experienced, and it still hurts to breathe for some reason, but besides that, _physically,_ he feels fine.

When he stands and walks over to Shiro, he smiles and greets him with homemade waffles and a tight hug, and then proceeds to explain to him that he's been asleep for about a week, no way to rouse him up no matter what he did. He also tells him that anyone working for Lotor has been taken to jail after the fire, where every single one of his dirty little secrets had been uncovered, prompting the King's knights to impart justice and end the despicable lineage.

He thinks Shiro might have had something to do with all that, maybe with an anonymous warning or letter -he's a well respected Fänger, people value his opinions-, and the mischievous, satisfied grin on his face tells him he's _right_ , that he'd wanted to punish them, although he probably also did it for revenge. Because, as happy as his brother may look, there's still an undercurrent of grief and loss shining in his eyes, a deep melancholy settled on his very being that will not abate until he's righted the wrongs done to him.

After catching up to all that has been happening, Shiro tries to engage into conversation with him, get him to open up. But eveytime he tries to work his mouth no sound comes out, and his brother gets this sad, mournful look that makes him freeze, even though he doesn't exactly know why. It's like everything is _numb_ , kind of dull, and his emotions are all over the place. That's to say, so far away and scattered it's almost like he feels.... _nothing_.

There's grief there, _yes_ , that, he can identify. There's also sorrow and a deep heartache that's bubbling under the surface, waiting for it's chance to lunge at the most unsuspecting of moments. And there's pain, too, in many shapes and forms, making impossible to pinpoint wich is wich and face each one separately.

But everything else is... _away_ , in the distance where he can't reach, and he doesn't know what face he's making but it's probably bad, because Shiro looks like he wants to cry and he has an inkling he would, too, if he could remember _how_.

The rest of the day is spent in the same way, and at one point, he notices that Shiro has retrieved, somehow, the small bracelet that is proof of his bond with Allura, Lance's sister, and that he makes a habit to fidget with it whenever he's nervous or worried.

That is to say, everytime he looks at Keith.

The hours pass and the sun goes down, the stars shine bright and the moon illuminates their backyard, Shiro continues trying his best to make him talk, to bring back some sense of normalcy to their lives, but it doesn't work.

He doesn't know what's _wrong_ , himself, doesn't know how to fix whatever is broken inside of him, and before he notices, the dawn of a new day catches up to him, and the cycle repeats, and he only nods or shakes his head, eats, sleeps, walks around the house and looks up longingly at the sky.

And then night comes once more. Rinse, repeat.

He goes to sleep every night lightly touching the fiery red earring that means to him more than his own life. The proof of his _love_. It's the only thing that seems to make him feel _something_.

* * *

 A few weeks pass by in a heart beat, and he seems to be improving, but the difference is so minuscule it's basically unnoticeable. He still won't utter a word, and at this point, he doesn't know if it's subconscious or on purpose, he only knows that his voice doesn't work and that there's a lump in his throat that prevents his from even trying.

Shiro is patient with him, takes care of him without complaint and is always tender and understanding. Maybe his brother thinks he's reached his breaking point after watching so many loved ones die, and his state is a defense mechanism to avoid the pain that feelings and acknowledging the situation will bring.

And while that might not be so far from the truth, he doesn't think it's the whole reason he's like this. There's more to it, but his mind is always scrambled nowadays, and everytime he's not working through his usual routine, he's fiercely thinking about Lance, because he remembers their promise, he remembers _him._

He never wants to forget. If he does, it'll all be over, and any chance he would of had at seeing him again will vanish. He can't let that happen, he _won't_. So he spends most of his days looking at nothing, replaying in a loop the memories of his time together with Lance over and over again and reminiscing about his smile, his little quirks, his melodic voice, the feel of scales and cold skin on his own heated one and silky hair slipping through his fingers.

It's all he can do to remain sane.

He feels like he's high strung, tense like a chord, ready to snap at any given moment. Like he's waiting for something to break the iced shell that seems to cover his whole being, break the tension and whatever it is that's keeping him on edge.

And when it happens, it's completely unexpected.

Shiro has finally convinced him to take a short walk out -even though he feels like his legs are now forever made of jelly- and he leads him through the steep path towards the village, passing by the charred remains of what had once been a wonderful castle. His eyes barely linger for a minute, there's nothing there that he cares about, not anymore. And remembering what happened there, the reason he's still breathing, will only hurt later on.

He focuses instead on the memory of Lance and him bantering, and the affection he'd still held in his eyes when he'd looked at Keith, no matter how mad he'd been. It's another piece of the past he'll remember Lance by, another memento to add to the growing list. He won't forget. _He won't forget._

His mind now faraway and replaying the past again, Shiro holds his hand and takes him towards the path, passing stores, childen playing, their fake, dilapidated house that seems to have been brought to the ground, and lots of trees and thick foliage that seem to thin and widen as they continue onwards.

He realizes where Shiro's leading him a tad too late.

Blue comes into view, the sky, the ocean, strikingly powerful and breathtaking. Warm brown sand under his bare feet -when did that happen?- and a salty breeze bring back the softness of lips and the warmth of tears and blood as they soak his face, his hands, and the chest of the person he loved- _loves._

He'll never stop loving him. It's a promise. _His_ promise.

Shiro's hand is cupping his cheek now, and his expression is the most devastated, heartwrenching thing he's seen in a while, eyes full of sorrow and desperation, a look akin to the one Keith'd sported when his brother had gone missing. He looks him in the eye, as if he's searching for him, trying to make sure he's listening to him, that he's mentally _there_.

"Keith, please, _speak to me_ , I don't know what else to do." Shiro pleads. "It' been a month and you haven't said a word, you barely eat and sleep, and whenever you're awake, you stare off into the distance with this...faraway look in your eyes that scares me to hell." He's okay, it's okay. He'll get better.....somehow. He just needs time....No, _time_ is all he has. He doesn't know what he needs, he's stuck, he's lost, and he can't find the way.

"I- I understand if you're mourning, if- if the grief is hurting too much for you to leave yourself open and feel it all at once. But you can't continue keeping it at bay, Keith. It will continue to accumulate, getting stronger and stronger, and when it finally hits you....it's going to _destroy you._ " Shiro looks like he's going to cry. He feels something tingle right above his heart.

"I can't keep seeing you like this, wasting away. I thought....I thought maybe, brining you here, where...where you said goodbye would be enough to break you....and begin piercing you back together. I'm not cruel, I just want you to let it out. Tell me what you need. Please say _something_ -" Shiro's voice trails off into a wretched wail, pitiful and desolate, and he feels the same ache as before deep inside his chest. But it's not enough to rouse his awareness, it only makes him dizzy and tired and want to sit for a while as he looks at nothing.

He slowly takes Shiro's hand, and squeezes once, pointing to the floor and tilting his head to the side, shaking it once, a sign he knows his brother will understand as a question and a request.

_'I'll wait here, I want to be alone. Is that okay?'_

Shiro looks crestfallen and miserable, but there's also something akin to hope shining in his gaze, and he helps him sit on the dry patch of sand under his feet, running his only hand through Keith's locks fondly before sighing and walking away. Never far, but enough that he feels like he has some privacy.

He stares at the ocean, and thinks long and hard about everything that's happened up till now, the bad things, the good things, and absentmindedly touches the earring hanging from his ear. It's strangely warm, and it seems to tingle in tandem with the ebb and flow of the crashing waves.

He sweeps his eyes over the coast, looking for Shiro, and finds him on the other side of the beach, dipping his toes in the water and looking at the surface with yearning, the bracelet that he'd retrieved from Lotor's castle wrapped around his wrist, shining a deep black that seems to be pulsating, like a beating heart.

He follows his gaze and his eyes land on a blinking light that's far away, but coming closer.

There seems to be a shadow creeping under the water's surface, and he has a second to think about shouting before he remembers he _can't._ And he's struggling to stand up and walk over to his brother, warn him about upcoming danger, but then the shadow's emerging and Shiro yelps and backs away and claws reach for him and-

_White._

There's a white and pink mermaid extending her hands towards him, an pink almandine pendant hanging from her neck that glimmers in synch with Shiro's obsidian bracelet, her shaky voice nothing but a whisper a she speaks his name.

"Shiro...?" His brother looks stricken, and then heartbroken, and then relieved and hopeful and so _in love_ it makes him freeze. They must be talking now, catching up to what happened and what they missed.

Shiro is gesturing to his arm, probably telling her what happened to him -if the way she covers her mouth in muted horror is anything to go by- but his brother is smiling and his eyes are crinkling in the same way they usually do when he's really happy, a look he hasn't sported since Keith became this....hollow imitation of himself.

And him? He's frozen, staring at the mermaid with wide eyes and a dry mouth, his legs trembling under him from where he's half crouched, his breaths shallow and wet.

For a second, he catches sight of her eyes, and suddenly, it's like Lance's staring right back at him, the same rich, deep blue that shines cyan in the sun's rays. And he feels his heart beginning to speed up, his hands start to sweat and his eyes fill with tears. His cheeks feel on fire and everything suddenly aches; his stomach rumbles and clenches painfully, and he feels like he's run a marathon without breaks.

His head pounds and his joints scream from the lack of use, his ears ring with the onslaught of noises that he abruptly can hear, like everything has been muted up till this moment. And it's like thunder is coursing through his veins and urging him to stand up, walk ahead, _move_.

And he does.

He gets his feet under him, throat constricting painfully as he walks, step by step, towards the quiet conversation behind the rock formation close by, his senses overwhelmed and on the verge of suffocating him with their sudden intensity.

He's vibrating out of his skin, and as he turns and looks at her -really looks- he feels the lump that had been stuck in his throat suddenly leave, and the words are out before he's even conscious he's thought them up, before he acknowledges that he has, indeed, used his vocal chords for the first time in weeks.

"I'm sorry." It burns. His tongue. His throat. His chest. His eyes. Everything burns with the emotion and ferocity that those words carry, and he feels as wrecked as his voice is right now. It won't change anything, it means _nothing_ , not anymore. But he has to apologize, she needs to know who is responsible for the death of her beloved brother, she deserves to have someone she can blame, to know the truth.

He'd said no more lies, no more cowardice. It's time he makes good on that promise.

He doesn't know he's been waiting for this until now, it's like the words he's uttered had been lodged on the back of his throat all this time, waiting to be spoken out loud to the right person. He wonders if the part of Lance's heart that now belongs to him is the one pushing him to ask for forgiveness, or if it's his own need for punishment and his guilty conscience that drive him to do so.

But whatever the reason, he feels a weight leave and tears gather in his eyes, and he waits for something to happen, bracing himself for it. He doesn't know if it's a lashing out or retribution or for all the blame to fall directly onto him, but he knows it's coming, and that he deserves every second of it.

He watches with bated breath as Allura turns to look at him, startled and wary, her eyes fixated on his form, narrowing then widening as a gasp leaves her lips and a sharp intake of breath echoes around, loud in the sudden stillness of the ocean as a dreadful look crosses her features.

"You- what-" She stutters, and her face morphs into an angry scowl that makes her look terrifying, her sharp theeth and claws displayed for the world to see. A warning.

"I'm sorry- I- I never meant to- it was an accident- I just wanted to- it wasn't supposed to be like this- I-I never wanted Lance to get hurt!" It's like a switch has been pushed, all of a sudden, his emotions are triggered back into place, and he's left trembling and shuddering, barely keeping himself together long enough to spit out his useless apology.

He watches Allura still, and her wary eyes glance down, down, until they rest on his chest. The shriek that follows is deafening and leaves his ears ringing, and suddenly she's lunging at him, stopping when she realizes she can't reach him, her eyes filled with hate and animosity and grief, the sounds she utters completely heartwrenching and awful.

"You! _You_! How dare you!? How could you! You killed my baby brother!" She screams at him, her hate-filled eyes asking for death, hands extended with the intention of ripping him to shreds if she got the chance, if she got close enough. And then his brother is speaking up, sounding distressed and anxious, and things just get from bad to worse.

"Allura, _please_! He didn't know! He was just trying to rescue me- he, he was desperate and- he tried his best to save him, he did! But in the end- it wasn't-" She screeches again, this time pained and devastated, her eyes shifting to Shiro in disbelief and hurt. He can see her emotions reflected in her eyes, just like Lance's had been, and there's nothing but grief and betrayal and anguish in there.

"You _knew_? You knew he was responsible for it? Were you ever planning on saying he killed my brother?!" She's crying and seething at the same time, her voice carrying anger and a fierceness he's not unfamiliar with. She resembles Lance so much it hurts.

It hurts. He can finally feel again and it's just _pain_. And the walls holding the dam of his inner turmoil are all but crumbling under the weight of Allura's sorrow and his own, which he's been ignoring for a while but now bares it's fangs at him, relentless.

"Allura, please, listen to me-" She doesn't. She turns to look at him again, and pins him with the most disgusted, deathly look he's ever seen, her mouth upturned and eyes shiny with tears of loss.

"That doesn't belong to _you_! His life didn't belong to you! But you took it anyway! You're a monster! You took advantage of my brother's honesty and kind nature and killed him!" She gasps painfully, her breaths quick and shallow, and Shiro looks like he wants to intervene, his own face the picture of misery. He probably doesn't know what Allura is really referring to, he might think that she blames him for Lance's death and only that.

He knows better. She hasn't stopped looking at his chest for a while now, she sees what he didn't deserve to get, but acquired anyway. Lance's life force, Lance's heart.

Allura whimpers and screams, the sound echoes and rebounds and she looks him dead in the eye and- "I hope you enjoy the cursed fate you've brought upon yourself. I would wish upon you the worst of lifetimes, but my baby brother was too pure to want to bestow an horrible fate on anyone. I'm sure he's doesn't hold a grudge against you, wherever he is. But _I_ will never forgive you- she looks at Shiro -any of you." And then she swims away.

And the only proof she has even been there is only the small, glimmering almandine necklace that twinkles in the sunlight, abandoned and thrown out, severing a bond that could have led to something beautiful.

He feels like he can't hold on anymore, he's going to break, he's falling apart.

But it's only when he looks back up and sees Shiro crying that he finally cracks and shatters, falls to his knees and lets out a sob so loud and hard it tears his throat. The dam has broken, his emotions and feelings have come back with a vengeance and everything is attacking him from all sides at the same time, he feels like he can't breathe.

He misses the days where nothing mattered and everything was numb.

But he missed more remembering how his heart fluttered everytime Lance smiled at him, or how his breath hitched when he looked at the nape of his neck, usually covered with his long hair, and how he wanted to press a kiss there, soft and sweet.

He missed the butterflies in his stomach whenever he replayed the memory of their kiss or their caresses and tender touches, and how his chest felt full to the brim with fondness everytime Lance did something silly or funny to make him laugh.

He missed the overwhelming sense of love that took hold of his senses when he reminisces about Lance, looking up at him from the water, flowers raining over him as an awestruck expression slowly transforms into a beaming one, mouth tilted into a beautiful smile as his eyes lit up with joy.

So he fights the cold and numb away, holds onto the thread that ties him to Lance and his memories of him and doesn't _let go_. And he cries and screams and wails, lets everything out, sobs and whimpers and yells until his voice is gone and he's spent and worn, empty.

Later, after he's recovered some, Shiro will tell him that he's glad he's finally out of his shock ,and that he has allowed himself to grieve and mourn and free his mind from all the dark feelings festering there.

He doesn't tell Shiro that he was crying for him, too, for ruining his future and his happiness and making him lose the only person he's come to love, the person he wanted to build a family and grow old with. He doesn't tell him how guilty and horrible he feels, or how much it hurts to look him in the eye, knowing he's failed him as a brother, as a friend, and as family.

He just pretends not to notice his brother's tears and his silent crying as they sit crumpled on the beach, and prays that tomorrow will be a brighter day filled with new resolve.

* * *

 After that fateful day on the beach, things begin to slowly improve, and although it's painful and hard, and some days he feels like he can't get up from bed, they get back to their usual lives without much hassle, regaining some sense of normalcy.

He spends the first year after Lance's death recovering from it all, and while he does that, he tries his best to help Shiro whoever he can, seeing as having only one arm has left him unable to do some things and he has to get used to it and re-learn how to do others, specially since he's right handed and that's the one he lost.

Shiro seems to become happier now that Keith talks again, and he invests all his time in making sure his brother is happy. Or, well, happy as can be, given the situation, he will never forgive himself for what he did to Shiro, but he's come to a resolve he won't let dwindle.

He's going to _live_. He's going to move on and continue onwards no matter how hard things get, he's not going to let Lance down, he's not going to disappoint him and just lay in bed for centuries and cry away his woes. That's not what Lance would've wanted.

And he wouldn't have wanted for Keith to remember him almost obsessively every single day, either, like he'd been doing until the day in the beach, when he'd been saying his name and remembering his face at least a few times an hour, too scared to forget.

He knows better now. He will _never_ forget, because the warmth and longing and affection that thrumm in his veins everytime he remembers his smile is ever-present, and the yearning to hold him in his arms and never let go is strong and true, he knows it won't fade.

So he spends his days just living, making the most of his time with Shiro, learning how to cook, to sew, doing laundry, going shopping, playing games, entertaining the town's children with his tricks and Piros' help, learning how to take care of their garden and vineyard, how to repair their house, how to build. Because he's in no hurry, he has all the time in the world.

And what's a year to someone who's going to live for centuries?

He learns and thrives and accumulates knowledge, goes back to his job at some point when Shiro does, too, and he works hard to help people, this time with a drive that's alight with a fierce passion, a desire to help and prevent others from suffering just as he has. He's determined to use this life he's been bestowed with to save other's from the pain of loss, and everytime a mer or human thank him, holding their children close with grateful tears in their eyes, the weight of the guilt he carries eases a bit.

He knows it won't ever be enough, but he won't stop, anyway. He likes to think Lance would be proud of him. And sometimes, his heart will beat two times in a row, and it feels like he's giving him his approval. On those occasions, he will clutch his chest and remember, and let a smile bloom on his face, imagining blue eyes gazing lovingly at him.

Live continues on, and so does he.

* * *

 From his nineteenth birthday to his twenty-fourth, he makes it his mission to find every single piece of written information on merfolk and destroy it all. Its easier said than done, though, and he barely manages to do that on the continent they live in, prompting the crime rates to drop with time. His objective is the whole world, but he has time to do that later, and he won't leave Shiro for long, he wants to spend as much time with him as he can now that he's come to terms with the fact that he's going to lose him one day.

It's not that he _likes_ it, but he has no other choice than to accept it, because it's going to happen wherever he likes it or not, and he has to be ready. Centuries await him long after Shiro is...gone, and he needs to know he can take care of himself, that he won't panic because he's alone and he'll know how to move on. So he tries to be more independent and self-sufficient, partially so Shiro doesn't have to orbit around him and can enjoy his life to the fullest, but also so he can plan ahead his next steps, which may or may not include telling Shiro about his.... _condition_.

He wonders how long it'll take for his brother to call him out on it.

In the five years that have passed by, Shiro's hair has grown longer, nearly touching his shoulders, and he's taken to wear it on a small ponytail on the base of his neck. He's decided to grow a small beard that Keith has repeatedly told him doesn't flatter him and always scratches his cheeks when Shiro comes to bid him goodnight with a kiss on the forehead, something he's made an habit out of after the whole.... Lance fiasco.

He doesn't mind, really, the touch is comforting and grounding, and his brother always follows it up with an _'I love you'_ , his eyes filled with fondness and unconditional support. But while it's evident that Shiro has grown older, with some wrinkles here and there, Keith still looks the same, and instead of growing his hair, he's chosen to cut his really short in an attempt to look younger, to shake his brother off his trail and keep him in the dark as long as possible.

But when he hits nearly thirty and it's glaringly obvious he hasn't aged one day, Shiro locks him home, crosses his arm in that way he knows means trouble, and forces him to speak. It's sooner than he'd imagined, but he can't say he didn't see it coming, Shiro is not an idiot, he would have noticed sooner or later.

"Keith, what- what did you _do_?" Shiro's voice is stern and mildly horrified, it's clear that he's not afraid of him or anything like that, he just wants answers. " You- you don't look a year over twenty, and you're going to turn thirty this year. I know you inherited mom's youthful genes and I'm more similar to dad, but- this- this is not normal. What happened?" His brother stops for a second, calming his trembling hand and shuddering breaths.

"Please... _please_ tell me you didn't do something stupid...." And, well, what is he supposed to say to that? He had a whole speech prepared for this, has been getting ready for years, but the words escape him when it matters most and nothing comes to mind, he just sees Shiro's panicked expression and the worry in his eyes and blanks.

"I.....I made a promise." His brother lets out a questioning sound. "With Lance, I made a promise with Lance. I won't......I will live for a very long time, Shiro. I'm not....I won't die for centuries, maybe even longer, until....until we find each other again." Shiro looks heartbroken at his confession, but there's mostly pain and worry in his eyes, which is so typical of him it _hurts_.

He always worries for Keith's future, and this time is no exception.

He doesn't regret the deal he made with Lance, and he won't say he's sorry he did it because he's _not_. He's just sad that he'll have to leave Shiro behind -it's ironic how the tables have turned now- and watch him fade away. He knows it will destroy him and the pain will be unbearable, but this is his choice, and he'll see it through till the very end.

"Oh, Keith, you- why did you- was it because you felt guilty? Or maybe-" he shakes his head, interrupting Shiro before he misunderstands the situation.

"It's not like that. I....I loved him, I _love_ him. I just....we had run out of time, we couldn't enjoy any aspect of a live together after that day. He had to leave and we both regretted not spending more time with each other; the good, the bad, the ups and downs of a relationship, the tears, the smiles....we wanted to experience it all." He takes in a shaky breath, the ache still fresh after so many years, Lance's smile and warmth ever-present on his daily life as he yearns, and remembers, and prays for a time that he's not sure will ever come.

"But he had to go, he didn't have a choice, it was supposed to be _me_ but he took my place, said my death would be irreversible but with his we had _hope_. And I didn't want that to be the last time we saw each other, didn't want to love anyone else but him for as long as I lived. Didn't think I could. So we made a deal, I said goodbye, and now I just have to wait for him." He inwardly smiles, imagining their reunion and the beautiful, beaming smile that Lance will gift him with, even if he doesn't remember him, all the new and wonderful things they will get to experience together.

It's exciting and motivating and the only thing keeping him afloat.

"For how long, Keith?" Shiro asks, eyes wet and voice rough and wrecked, his hand clutching his chest as if the pain he's feeling is physical, and not of the heart. He smiles up at his brother, rueful and bittersweet, and doesn't hesitate when he answers.

"For as long as it takes."

Shiro cries and yells and chastises him -always serious, with a low tone of voice and with his well being in mind, of course-, but he eventually calms down and they both sit and talk it out like adults. It takes some time, but he understands, and they both come to an agreement not to mention it anymore and live their lives without anymore regrets.

He finally takes the time to apologize to Shiro for what happened with Allura, too, which was long overdue, and his brother, still hurting but getting better, says that maybe it wasn't meant to be. And although he knows better, even though he recognizes soulmates when he sees them, he doesn't say anything about it and choses to remains silent, watching his brother share his affection and kindness, but never his love.

Their lives are peaceful and their job rewarding, he is happy and Shiro is content, and everything is good, things are looking up. But not anymore when he hits forty and still looks like a teenager and the people in the village begin to whisper and speculate, sending weird looks their way and ushering their children away as if they're cursed, _dangerous_.

They are forced to move, leaving behind precious memories, their parent's graves and their garden and the house in which they were raised, the only place they have ever called _home_.

When he tells Shiro this, his brother smiles and hugs him sideways before replying.

“ As long as we're together, anywhere can be our home. It's not a place, it's not those four walls and some furniture, neither that garden nor our backyard. Home is waking up in the morning and making coffee for both of us, home is ruffling your hair and teaching you to sew and watching you grow as a person.”

“ Home is sparring matches and bad jokes, is the feeling of being happy, safe, content, supporting each other unconditionally. For me, home is wherever i'm with you.”

He will forever deny having cried after.

Shiro only laughs at him.

* * *

 From his forty-one birthday to his fiftieth, he and Shiro live in at least three different cities, each and everyone of them holding something dear to them, securing a special place in their hearts before they have to -ultimately- move again.

On the first one -Fira-, he meets a girl named Shay, who says she works -or worked- as a mediator between mer and humans, and regretfully tells him that that job went obsolete when the mer refused to meet with humans anymore, too scared and distrustful from all the deaths they had to endure at the Jäger's hands.

She then begins explaining her experiences and telling him about a mer she met many, many years ago -twenty, to be exact- who was eager to learn and kind and sweet, and how much she regrets not having said goodbye. His heart twinges at her words, and he knows she's talking about Lance, so he lies and tells her that he's okay, he's doing good, and that, even though he missed her, he would be glad that she has her own family now, and that she's happy.

The way she beams and sighs in relief and serenity makes his chest feel light, and a weight seems to have been lifted from both their shoulders. They become friends after that, even though he spouts even more lies and tells her he's thirty, but she doesn't seem to care about any of that.

She never asks.

When him and Shiro have to move two years later, she gives them apple pie and a bunch of medicinal herbs to take with them, and wishes them a safe journey and a bright future.

\--

On the next one, a small town called Dia, Shiro befriends a cheery woman by the name of Anya, who works at the bakery down the street and always gives his brother free bagels and croissants. Shiro says she's just being friendly since they recently moved there, but he can see the way she blushes and how her eyes twinkle everytime she glances at him, her words stuttering when she's nervous.

He's also aware of how happy and comfortable Shiro seems around her, telling jokes, speaking about their parents and their job -which's licence works in every continent, thank god for that- and the things they've seen in their travels, his smile brigther than before the night of the blood red moon happened, as bright as his true smile has always been.

And he definitely sees how Anya drinks it all up, Shiro's laughs, his sideways glances, his every little touch and caress. She never mentions his arm or lets it affect anything they do, she takes everything in stride and looks at Shiro like he's hung the moon and the stars. She listens to him, argues with him, gives him advice and affection and makes him _shine_.

For the four years that they spend there, she becomes Shiro's support and anchor, a beloved friend and sister to Keith that has always done her best to include him in all their plans, never wanting him to feel left out. She's sweet and caring, and her kindness knows no limits.

Their romance only seems to grow with time and Keith tells himself that _this is it_ , the moment to let go, the chance to let Shiro have as happy as an ending as it can be, with a woman that loves him wholeheartedly and truthfully.

But when he mentions this to him a few years down the line, his brother shakes his head and refuses to be left behind. He smiles remorsefully and tells him that even though he loves her, he can't find it in himself to put all his heart into their relationship, because a part of it has always -and will always- belong to Allura.

And Anya doesn't deserve a half-hearted love when she's so dutifully pouring all of her own into her every word, her every action.

When they leave a few months later, it's to Anya's tears and her heartwrenching smile, the sweet smell of the pastries she gifts them and the fleeting, soft goodbye kiss she gives them both, her shaky ' _farewell_ ' ringing in his ears long after she's gone.

He walks away with the weight of her sadness and melancholy on his shoulders, and the feeling that he has, once again, prevented his brother from finding his own path, a place to settle down and actually have a life.

Shiro assures him he has nothing to do with the reason why he left.

He wonders if his brother is as much of a coward as he is.

The longing looks he sends back are enough answer.

\--

On the third one, Keith discovers the cruelty of human beings, and he spends a year allied with a man called Trey so they can free all the mer that have been captured by Jägers and taken away from their families -their human families- to be sold off as pets.

It's an arduous task, and he and Shiro have to work separately for a long time, but they eventually dismantle the organization that funded those illegal events and send every single one of those involved to jail. He spends the following year destroying any type of knowledge about merfolk and making sure nobody is even thinking of being a Jäger anymore.

He's done this in every city they've been to, even on the ones they've just passed by or stayed only for a day. He's trying to vanish any type of info about merfolk and punishing everyone that tries to find it or those that try to hurt them.

He prays it's making a difference.

And when one of the freed mermaids comes at him with her human child in her arms, beaming and smiling from ear to ear as she says an earnest _'Thank you'_ , he thinks it might have.

* * *

 From his fifty-five to sixtieth year, they settle down on a small cabin in the woods, away from prying eyes and curious villagers, having traveled the whole continent and seen sights that some would only dream about. They have since long ago stopped saying that Keith is Shiro's brother or son, now he's his nephew, and he's going to do his best to take care of his older brother.

Shiro is now close to sixty-six, and as much as he wants to continue to travel and keep up his though guy act, Keith knows he's struggling, the aftermath of his torture when he was twenty-four leaving repercussions that begin to appear now that he's grown old. The phantom pain of his arm never disappeared, and it's never going to, and his numerous scars ail him more than he says they do, he can tell when Shiro is lying.

His joints hurt on a daily basis and he knows his back is giving him grief, and it seems like his eyes aren't doing that much better either. He always tells Keith not to worry, that he's gone through worse, that a little ache here and there are nothing. But he's not an idiot, Shiro can barely move let alone walk long distances without his body needing to rest, and he's not about to force him or leave him alone to fend for himself.

No, he'll stay with him, repay him for everything he's ever done for him, for all the love and care and affection he's given unconditionally, for all the values and morals he's inculcated him, for making him the person he is today. They will live like a small family in the middle of the woods, enjoying the nearby lake and the pretty sunflower field and the children from the village nearby as they come to play.

They will enjoy the time they have left together, until the end comes.

_(How much he wishes it would never come.)_

* * *

 Five years later, his brother leaves him, fading peacefully in his sleep as his body finally gives out on him, the many aches and old wounds coming to collect the price of their hasty healing and a lifestyle of never-ending rest and overexerting habits.

The night before it happens, he and his brother have a talk, and it's the single most difficult this he's ever done after saying goodbye to the love of his life, because he knows what follows, both of them can feel it, and they don't want to close their eyes with words left unsaid.

"You know...." Shiro says, voice raspy and frail."...I'm really proud of you, Keith. I'm sorry that I caused you so much grief and...and that I've become a burden in the end. But...I'm really glad you're my brother, I would've never changed you for anything in the world. From the moment you were born, I loved you, and I'll continue to do so after this." His brother coughs, and he feels the tears beginning to pool in the corner of his eyes. He can't take seeing Shiro like this, so frail, withering away right before his very eyes, his strong, unreachable form now a far away memory from when they were nothing but children.

Things were easier back then. He wishes he could return to those sun-filled days.

"Even after...even after I go, I won't stop loving you, I'll be watching over you, I hope you know that. You...you made a promise with Lance, right? To...meet again." He nods, not trusting his voice not to break and a sob to take it's place. "Then....then I promise I'll see you again, too, someday. I'll meet you when everything ends." He takes in a shaky breath, biting his lip.

"O-okay, I'll...hold you to that. Don't forget, okay? Because I _won't_. I won't ever - _he sobs_ \- I won't ever forget you. You're the best brother I could ever had, and I- I didn't deserve you but I'm so grateful for all you've taught me. I promise - _he wipes his eyes-_ I promise next time we see each other I'll be better- I'll do better. Next time, I'll make you truly proud." Shiro smiles and closes his eyes, squeezing Keith's hand once before falling into a fitful sleep, a content, serene look on his features that speak about peace and rest.

That's the last time he speaks with his brother.

The next day he buries him beneath the sunflowers, and cries until his tears run dry.

He packs up his things, his only home now lost, and leaves behind the hollow shell of a house to continue his journey.

* * *

He's a hundred years down the line, and if he's learnt one thing, is that humans are _stupid_.

There's not two ways about it.

He's managed to destroy any and all evidence that merfolk ever existed, alongside anything related to them; folklore, fairy tales, myths, studies, investigations -the works, everything is gone. He discovered -to his inmense relief- that only his continent and the two adjacent ones knew about merfolk and their existence, having traveled to other far away lands just to find they're completely clueless and don't even know what merfolk are.

So, it's taken him a hundred years, but the continents are now incapable of ever finding merfolk again, and any document, scroll, engraving or piece that depicted mer is forever lost, destroyed by his hands in his quest to make right by them as a way of repentance.

So, _why_ , god, why is he sitting here in this library, reading about half-fish half-human creatures that eat children who behave badly? He honestly doesn't know.

He doesn't understand why they are so intent on writing about something that -mostly -everyone knows is taboo. He's made it very clear all throughout this century that _'Merfolk do not exist, don't write about them, don't mention them, just forget.'_ , but it seems some people are obstinate and don't care about the consequences of their actions.

He's just trying to protect the mer, give them the anonymity that will assure them peaceful lives. But it seems humans can't very well leave matters alone, and everytime he thinks he's eradicated anything that can bring those -veracious- tales back to life, someone finds something or sees something or hears about _'The thing that my friend's great-grandfather talked about a million years ago_ ' and he's back to square one.

It's frustrating.

No matter how many times he makes those humans forget -he has Piros to thank for that- there's always someone out there ' _seeking the truth'_ and basically making his job harder, time, and time, and time again.

Humans are stubborn and tenacious creatures, and he knows they won't ever stop.

Sometimes he forgets that he, too, shares those traits, and they're precisely what make him walk the continents as many times as needed, until he's sure that Lance's beloved species can live in peace for the rest of existence.

He's not in a hurry, he will repeat the cycle until no one remembers them anymore.

No one but _him_.

* * *

On his third -or maybe fourth, he's not sure anymore- century, he learns that merfolk have gone extinct, and he feels a pang of sorrow at the realization, feeling like he's failed, somehow, at keeping them safe. The truth is, after humans began evolving, little by little, they ended up polluting the water with residue that ended up being poisonous to merfolk, forcing the vast majority of them to move far, far away into foreign lands.

But it turns out it wasn't any better over there, and one by one, they died of sickness until the population lowered to almost nothing. He was lucky enough to get to talk to one of the remaining survivors, who informed him of what had really happened and the fate that had befallen the last of his kind, sorrow written in his face at knowing that he was soon to follow.

The mer speaks of fond memories about peaceful times where no humans were seen and no mer was taken from their home, the fear gone as they were free to wander the ocean without the uncertainty of a terrible fate as a possibility. He speaks of a figure dressed in black and red, always standing vigil, always guarding the beaches and creeks and warding off any wandering humans, steering them away from their dwelling sites with a few choice words.

The mer dies singing praises of that cloaked figure that allowed his kind to enjoy life to the fullest, grateful of a duty well accomplished and happy that the mysterious guardian will finally be able to rest.

He never gets a chance to say it was him.

* * *

At some point in time -maybe around the five hundred mark-, he tries to go back to visit Shiro's tombstone, and finds that the floods have made the lake wider and deeper and the sunflower field is gone alongside the only remnant he had of his brother.

He wants to be mad, but nature runs it's course and time inevitably moves on.

All the people he knew are dead, the cities aren't even called the same.

He's being left behind once more.

* * *

Many more centuries pass him by, and at this point, he can't honestly tell how old he is, he's probably close to the thousand mark, what equals to a pile of bones and ash, but he's lost count, and he's not worried enough to begin now.

He's just moved to a new city after his old one had become uncomfortable, too close to the sea, to the blue that even to this day still rejects him and wills him away. The ocean hasn't forgiven him in all the hundreds of years he's spent repenting, and he gets it, he really does, and maybe it's a bit childish to be mad because he can't swim in the ocean, but when summer comes and there's no pool he can go to- well, it sucks.

Summer also bring with it the memories of the time he spent together with Lance, whom, to this day, he still misses greatly. He's never forgotten about him in all the time he's been waiting, and although he doubts if he'll ever be able to see him again, he holds no such emotion about his feelings, the love he feels for him is as strong as it was on the first day he laid eyes on that radiant smile.

He has to admit, thought, that so much time alone has been....detrimental to his psyche, at some points. He's had many mental breakdowns and periods of time in which he never left home, his mind swirling with ' _what if's'_ , grief, loss, sorrow, missing Shiro, feeling lonely, lost and scared, with not one to ask for help or to turn to when things got hard.

He eventually learns to deal with it, of course, he looks for distractions, hobbies, things to ocuppy his time with so he doesn't go mental. One of such things is learning, seeking knowledge of all the period's he's lived through; the things that were invented, people that became famous, places that grew and became industrialized, important events of the era he's in and anything of relevance, really.

It still impresses him to this day what humans have managed to built with time. He still thinks they are idiots, don't get him wrong, but they have some smart ideas and individuals that have transformed the world into a giant technological metropolis. And when he compares his own time, filled with magic and fantastic creatures and knights, to the cars and phones and machines available to nearly anyone now, well, he can't help but be a little impressed, even though he himself wants nothing to do with that technology .

Except for his hoverbike. She's his baby and he will destroy anyone that touches her.

He swerves to the right lane as he flies her through the outskirts of the city, following his map towards the house he's just bought -with fake identification papers, of course , he's learnt to do that as one of his many (necessary) hobbies- wondering what it looks like in person.

When he arrives in the middle of the desert and gazes upon the dilapidated shack, surrounded by nothing but sand -but with no water in sight, the complete opposite of the beach- with nothing to be seen in miles and a sense of privacy that seems appropriate, he sighs, and smiles.

It reminds him of their little home back when he lived with Shiro.

It's _perfect_.

He settles down without a hitch, and occupies his time on modifying his bike, re-reading the notes he's taken throughout the ages of the things he's witnessed, places he's visited, people he's met, and a myriad of other things that, when written in paper, take about a whole bookshelf on their own. And his house is small, so whatever little space they take up is still a little too much.

But he wouldn't change it for anything, the shack transmits the same warm feeling his old house did, with his possessions scattered around and a photo of Shiro and himself on his nightstand, the shelves and tables filled with the trinkets and mementos he's gathered over the centuries.

He's kind of isolated and uncomunicated here, and it's great, because that means he won't have to move for a long time, that people won't ask questions and look at him strange when he doesn't seem to grow up. At this point he's sure he's some kind of urban legend in at least half the cities he's lived in, and the thought is as amusing as it's frightening.

Because the myths that come from the past hold some semblance of truth, are based on true events -even though nobody knows that- that eventually got twisted and altered, ending in a tale that resembles nothing of the original incident, just like it happened with merfolk.

The little mermaid is proof of that.

So, he's not worried someone will come knocking on his door asking about the _'immortal man_ ' or the _'forever young boy'_ , no. But he's worried someone will eventually find the breadcrumbs he's left behind, follow people's whispers and gossip and begin to think that the same thing happening in so many different cities is no coincidence at all.

He's being as careful as possible, but that doesn't mean things can't go wrong.

They always do.

* * *

His previous thought comes true a few months later, when, unexpectedly and abruptly, someone comes knocking on his door with hurried raps and panicked voices, asking to please be let in. And against his better judgement, he does, and nearly has a heart attack.

He's _this_ close to blurt out something completely inappropriate, and has to bite his tongue to prevent what would be an unbecoming - and extremely embarrassing and childish- response from leaving his lips.

The man and woman that have come stumbling inside his shack are bruised and bleeding some, and although he's not scared of them -he has, like, a thousand years of fighting practice at his back, he's skilled okay?- he's scared _for them_ , terrified, really.

Because the faces staring back at him are none other than those of his late mother and father.

Well, she's like, purple and way too tall, intimidating and rough around the edges, nothing like the sweet -but stern- mother he'd known back in the day. But his father looks exactly the same; the same angled jaw, same slitted eyes, same broad back and mischievous smile and the same terrible, terrible puns.

"Hey man, watch a dune?" It's stupid how he nearly cries at that, bur he manages to slap a deadpan expression on his face before crossing his arms and lifting an eyebrow, his default pose for _'I'm not amused'_. The woman slaps the other in the back of the head and sushes him, turning to speak to him with an authority that would have otherwise worked on him, had he not been over a thousand years old, that is.

"We're really sorry for intruding. We're being....pursued, we just needed some cover to patch our wounds and we'll be on our way. We mean you no harm." She seems nervous and jittery, her eyes shifting from one point of the room to another, not relaxed in the least.

"That's okay by me." He says before he can think twice about it. " But do you really think it was smart coming here? If someone's looking for you, this shack -you know, the only thing in the whole desert that stands out- is like a giant bullseye pointing you out." The man nods after a second, jumping from one foot to the other, clearly impatient to move again.

"He's right, you know, I don't think this is safe, for either him nor us. She's already hidden, but I don't think the spot we chose is the best one, maybe we could look for another? I'm worried we're being too obvious-" The woman cuts him off with a finger to his lips, sighing tiredly and running a hand through her hair, which looks like a rat's nest, to be honest.

"We can't, Taylor, she's already dormant and out of my reach, we just need to keep the scouts out of our trail and we'll be good to go." Hearing that name after so many years makes something squirm in his chest, his father's name, his father's face, it's like a blast to the past and it hurts more than he'd like to admit.

"But Krolia...." His mother's name, said with so much pain and worry it breaks him apart, remembering warm hugs and kisses on the cheek and the sweet smell of hot cocoa on the cold winter nights. It's like he's eight years old again, living with his family as a whole, laughing and playing catch and helping his father fish and his mother tend to the garden, enjoying the little things until they were ripped away from him.

He won't let it happen again.

"Just wait here and don't break or touch anything. I'll take care of the rest." He walks towards the door, not waiting -or expecting- for a response, his hand on the handle before something tugs him back, the face that levels with his own stern and concerned.

"Kid -Taylor says- don't go out there, this is not your problem okay? We're grateful you've let us inside and stuff, but we don't want to trouble you, this is dangerous." He feels himself smirk, on the verge of laughing as he lightly swats the hand away, feeling pumped and more alive than he has in years.

"So am _I._ " He smiles, and walks out his shack without further ado, ignoring the screams that ask him to come back, knowing he can handle almost anything that comes his way.

And that's exactly what he does as extremely technological advanced ships attack him. He strikes fast, brings them down hard, and destroys them and all their vehicles besides one, which he takes back, feeling like his parents' doppelgängers are going to need it.

He relishes on the awe-struck expression they make as he comes back driving the vehicle, and the way Krolia elbows Taylor so he can shut his mouth that still hangs open in disbelief.

The next few hours are spent explaining their situation -or as much of it as they want to tell him- and taking care of their wounds and aches as Keith prepares dinner, chatting animatedly with Taylor, who all but makes up for his lack of conversational skills while Krolia sews their torn up clothes and sharpens her knife, a look of utter focus on her face.

The scene is so domestic and familiar that it brings tears to his eyes.

He touches the earring, the one that he never removes, and takes comfort on the warmth that never seems to leave it. It gives him hope that as long as it remains shining bright red and shrouded in warmth, it means his love prevails, that it still stands strong and true.

He's not one to lose hope, not after everything he's gone through. But with ten centuries on his back and not seeing a familiar face until now, it makes him wonder if his wait will extend forever, if maybe he isn't meant to see Lance ever again, if this wasn't a promise, but a punishment.

But he knows Lance would've never done that to him. He wouldn't have lied.

And maybe, the fact that he's finally met someone he used to know means _something_.

He hopes it does.

So he kisses the drawn portrait of Lance like he does every night, wishing him sweet dreams, and drifts off to the snores on the living room, falling -for once- in a peaceful sleep for the first time in a long while.

He dreams of blue, laughter, and the sound of crashing waves.

It feels like a sign.

* * *

A week after their arrival, his parents' look alikes suddenly ask him a silly question as they eat dinner, and he's so taken aback he nearly spits his soup.

"Did we ever ask you what your name was?" It's Taylor who says it, but Krolia freezes all the same, her spoon clattering on the table as it falls from her slack hand.

"We...didn't." She answers like it physically pains her to do that, like she's done something unforgivable and awful. He has to swallow fast before the laugh bubbling in his throat makes him choke, and he enjoys the flustered faces of his parents as he chuckles, amused by their antics.

"My- a giggle- my name's Keith." He let's out a breathy laugh that sounds more like a wheeze, internally beaming at how awkward and adorable this guys are, always arguing like a married couple -even though they insist they are not- and sending longing looks at each other.

The other end of the table falls silent, and he looks up into the surprised, fond faces of his guests as smiles take over their expressions, some kind of...joy there that he cannot identify.

"That's funny because-" Taylor begins, beaming like a child. " -I've always wanted to name my kid-"

"I always thought if I ever had a kit, his name would be-" Krolia says in tandem.

"- _Keith_." They both say at the same time. And the blush that colors their cheeks a rosy pink is the cutest thing he's ever seen. He can't believe he's cooing at how adorable his parents' alter egoes are, it's so funny and sweet it makes his eyes tear up and his chest tighten.

Or that's what he tells himself, at least.

* * *

Five years down the line, Krolia leaves, but before she does, she gives him one of her knives, telling him that she wants him to have it. He refuses, saying that it won't transform for him - a fact he knows because he'd asked her about it once, when she'd shifted her blade into a long-sword and she informed him it would only do so for those with Galran blood, the species she was.

He says he can't accept it, because it's obvious he has no Galran blood in him, it doesn't belong to him. But she only gazes at him with a fond, tender look and brushes his hair away before dropping a kiss on his forehead.

"You know....I...I've always yearned to have a kit of my own. It was my dream, for a long time, to settle when everything was over and form a family. I wanted to give this knife to my child, teach them how to use it, how to defend themselves, what it means. But with things as they are now, I knew it would never happen, and I had given up on that dream. Taylor did, too. But..." She cups his cheeks and knocks their foreheads together, her smile soft and her eyes holding that twinkling spark his mother used to have when he did something she was proud of.

"But the fates gave me a chance to fulfill that wish. I don't think it's coincidence that your name was the one I held close to my heart my whole life, and Taylor doesn't think so, either. _Keith_...you are like the son I never had, and I love you as if you were my own, so, so much. I want you to have this, it- it would mean the world to me." He swallows the lump in his throat and shakes his head, his eyes already filling with tears in the face of a love he doesn't deserve.

"I can't- I- I'm not your son, I- it won't transform for me, it's not meant to be mine-" She sushes him, a rumbling sound coming from her chest that fills him with calm and soothes his pain, makes him relax in her embrace.

"Keith, you are my son in everything but blood. The short time we've spent together has been the happiest of my life, and if I leave, know it's to keep you safe, both of you. This is not about the sword's function or what it can and cannot do, it's not meant as a memento, but as a _symbol_." He shudders and holds her tighter, nearly letting out a sob when strong arms embrace him from the other side, the warmth that surrounds him so missed, so longed for, so familiar and grounding it makes his knees tremble.

"A....a symbol of _what_?" His voice breaks at the end, but he doesn't have the strength to be embarrassed, -even thought he's old as all hell and shouldn't be this emotional- because he's going to be left behind again, and it _hurts_.

"I think you already know that." She says, voice tender. And he closes his eyes and enjoys the feeling of belonging, of kindness and understanding and _love_ before it's ripped away from him once more.

And he thinks that _yes_ , he already knows.

_Family._

* * *

Two years after Krolia's departure, Taylor disappears without a trace, but he refuses to believe he's dead, chosing to believe, instead, that he's gone to look for her, holding the rings he crafted himself tight in his fist so he can ask the love of his life her hand in marriage.

He knows his dad is stubborn enough to do something like that, this time is no different.

He looks longingly at the knife his mom gave him -which he'd wrapped up in the cloth he retrieved from Lance's robe all those centuries ago- and then at the pair of rings he'd done himself -one blue, one red-, and wonders if he'll ever be able to give them to the one he cherishes above anything else, the one he dreams of almost every night now.

He thinks -once again- they could be signs, but the years pass and nothing happens, and no matter what city he visits or how many people he sees on the streets, none of them are _Lance_.

The world is big. He's walked it all. But he stil won't see the blue he longs for.

He wonders if giving up would have been the smart choice.

But then again, he's never been very smart to begin with.

* * *

Three years later, he's coming back from grocery shopping when he nearly crashes his bike, pushing the brakes with too much force and nearly sending himself toppling to the ground, his eyes glued to a poster hung on a lamp post.

He's breathing hard and sweating and he thinks he's having a panick attack because- because right there, in that image that talks about recruiting new cadets for a place called Galaxy Garrison, his brother stands in all his glory, saluting with a wide smile and straight posture.

The text says _'Follow in Takashi Shirogane's footsteps! The youngest pilot to ever graduate will teach you personally, dont let this chance pass you by! Sign for a spot in the Garrison now in our office on 3rd street!'._

He doesn't think he's ever signed up for something so fast in his life.

\--

The moment when he's finally in and lays eyes on his brother, he thinks he's going to _cry_ , and maybe he does, watching from a distance as he talks to some teachers and a brown haired guy that's beaming up at him, talking about condecorations and promotion.

Seeing him again is like a punch to the gut, because the last time he did he was worn and old and pale and too frail to keep on breathing, and he had to say goodbye and move on while knowing he wouldn't ever see him again. They had lived together for a long sixty-something years, but for him, it felt too short, too rushed, too little.

He would've given anything to prolong the time they had together, still guilty and wanting to make up for all the ways he'd wronged Shiro. But he knows, deep in his heart, that his brother had never held a grudge against him; not for Lotor, nor for Lance, and _definitely_ not for Allura.

He'd been forgiven, because his brother was always keen on seeing the good in him, of searching for repentance instead of punishment, and his understanding and the kindness he'd always shared with Keith were something that up until this day he's not sure he deserved.

But that he cherishes anyway, just like the memories of their shared life.

He wonders if Shiro is here because of the promise he made. But tells himself it's ridiculous, because only merfolk had that kind of magic, and it's impossible that Shiro would want to be reborn in a life with Keith in it, no matter what he'd said in his last moments.

It's not like he doubts him, _really_. But....he would understand why his brother might have wanted to begin from zero, free of the burden that was a way too clingy brother that relied too much on him and had separation issues, anxiety, and a phobia like fear of being left behind.

And yes, he knows that now because he's done his research, he's had enough free time to do that, at least, and help treat his problems and deal with his insecurities to the best of his ability. He thinks he's done pretty good, all things considered.

Although it feels like all that's down the drain now that his reborn brother is standing before him. He feels the familiar pull that always brought him to his brother's side, the feeling of being safe, the casual affection, the half-hearted headlocks, the side hugs and how they used to wrestle for the last baguette. The running under the rain as they raced home and the snorts when they looked at each other, thorough wet and ridiculous with their hair a wild mess.

He remembers it all, and backs away from that pull, his choice already done.

He's happy to see him again, he _really is,_ and he's overjoyed that Shiro seems to be doing good, he looks healthy and content as he laughs with the other guy, his face lighting up and his eyes crinkling and shining with mirth, tears gathering in the corner of his eyes as he snorts.

And it's precisely because Shiro is so happy that he decides to step away.

He won't be the one to ruin his perfect life _again. T_ his time, he'll do things right.

So he averts his gaze to the floor, and quietly walks past the laughing duo, interpreting that sound as him finally chosing the right path, the one that assures Shiro a bright future filled with light and joy and all te good things he deserves.

A future without _him_.

He didn't think it would hurt this much to walk away and leave someone behind.

It's almost ironic.

\--

He thinks the universe hates him. It's almost fact.

He's been actively trying to avoid Shiro at all costs, intent on making sure the other doesnt have to interact with him at all, that he doesn't involve himself with him more than necessary, or not at all, if possible.

But it seems fate has other plans for him, and Shiro is as stubborn as he was in his previous life, and just as equally as kind and honest and overall _nice_. He's heard somewhere that Keith is an orphan that lives alone and has made it his life mission to take care of him. He's lost count of how many times Shiro has asked for them to eat breakfast together or take a walk through the city, or the latest attempt; train together in the flight simulator.

He's said no everytime, to the astonishment and horror of his teenage peers. But he can work under pressure -has been doing so for a thousand years- so the stares and pity and envy and everything else fly right over his head, and he ignores them like he does with everything he deems inconsequential in his life. He's learnt to prioritize, and the opinion of children on his personal and professional life is so low on his list he can't even see it.

Still, though, Shiro doesn't give up. He's _persistent_ , he'll give him that, but it comes to a point where he has no other choice than to talk with him or risk bursting a blood vessel in frustration.

" _Look_ -he calmly tells Shiro one day after class- I don't know what you've heard or what you're trying to do. I've lost people, _yeah_ , and I might be alone, but let me clear things up for you. I don't need your pity or your worry, I'm perfectly fine as I am now, and if I don't socialize is because I _don't want to_. So I would appreciate it if you left me alone." He didn't think it would hurt this much to tell Shiro off, or watch a crestfallen, remorseful expression bloom across his face.

But it _does_ , and the other averts his gaze to the ground before shaking his head and pining him with one of the most intense looks he's ever seen, the ones that mean he's determined to succeed in _something_.

"I'm....sorry if I made you uncomfortable, Keith, it was never my intention. But let me tell you that it wasn't because I felt sorry for you that I sought you out. Whatever murmurs float through the Garrison don't matter to me, your life is your own and I'm not going to pry into that." He tilts his head, confused as to why Shiro is on his tail then.

"The reason I've been trying to talk to you is because....because I saw a lot of wasted potential and it drove me _nuts_. When you're in class you don't pay attention to anything, and your eyes always have this....faraway look, like you're elsewhere, but when they ask you questions you always get them right. I've seen you fly the simulator, and your drills are always succesful with a rate of 97% success and zero deaths, it's a score that beats mine, but you've never seemed to care." And he doesn't, it's just another routine to add to the many ones he already has, another thing to do to pass time until he gets tired or people get suspicious and he has to fly away to another country.

He won't let himself get attached, because he knows he'll have to leave Shiro behind, _again._ And he's trying to save himself the pain and heartache while making sure he doesn't mess up Shiro's new life, like he did in the past.

"It's really difficult getting in the Garrison, you know? And most cadets are giddy and excited and ready to do their very best, it's a dream come true to be in the ranks. But you always wander the halls with a bored expression on your face, like all of this means nothing to you, like it's something transitory that doesn't matter on your life." Shiro takes in a deep breath, then continues, his expression pinched and sorrowful.

"Even though you could be the next best pilot this school has ever seen, even though you have a chance at making a difference and help build a better world. And I just wonder, sometimes.....why did you enroll, if this is so insignificant to you?" And, what can he say to that? That he did it on a whim because he saw his face on a poster? Because he's the reincarnation of his dead brother? Because he was lonely and wanted to befriend a familiar face but though better of it after watching how happy and successful he was?

Yeah, not going to happen.

"I don't have an answer that will satisfy you, Shiro. I'm sorry I'm not.... an excited, impressionable teenager that fawns over you and your achievements and immediately wants to befriend _you_. I'm sorry I don't take the flight simulator seriously and that the classes seem too boring to me because I already know most of what's been taught, I'm sorry I'm not excited to be in an institution that teaches children how to kill, and expects everyone to be okay with it." He knows he's hit a sensitive subject when Shiro finches, his fists tightening and his brows furrowing in consternation, expression tight.

"That's....you're not completely wrong, nothing is perfect, and this place isn't an exception to that rule. But -he looks at Keith, earnest- let me show you it can be different, let me try and convince you that being here is worthwhile, that something good can come out of it." Shiro approaches him, his eyes so honest and pleading that he feels his resolve crack, slowly, from the inside out, making him take a step back because- he's doing this for him, he _can't-_

"You don't want to involve yourself with me, it will only bring you a bad reputation. You've heard what everyone keeps saying, I'm antisocial and problematic and quick to anger, I'm aloof and a loner, a lost cause, nothing good will happen to you if you're near me." He crosses his arms and tries to hide the pained expression on his face, not wanting to reveal just how much he wants to reach out and hold onto someone, stop being lonely.

"You don't want someone like _that_ in your life." He shakes his head and steps back, ready to turn and forget they ever had this conversation, but-

"I'll be the one to decide that." Shiro says as he holds Keith's wrist. "It's my life, I'm entitled to my own choices. And I chose to believe in you, and the many good things we can achieve if we work together." Shiro smiles, hesitant but determined, looking at him like his brother did when he was trying to explain something only he understood.

"Trust me, believe in me, and I promise I won't let you down." Unconsciously, his fingers tighten around Shiro's wrist, it grounds him, it becomes his anchor. "And if, after that, you decide this is not what you want to do, that this isn't for you, I'll support you and help you find your path, just like any teacher should. You aren't chained here, Keith, you are free to go wherever you want." Ah....it feels like invisible walls are crumbling around him, and only now he realizes that he felt like he couldn't leave this place.

Because Shiro was there, because the only semblance of family he had left was there, and he told himself he would leave _eventually_ , but a week became two, and two became four, and he'd been lying to himself saying that he could walk away anytime.

It's like breathing is easier, like the weight he carries is a little lighter.

Shiro smiles at him again, hopeful.

And this time, he smiles back, wills the guilt away, and stops mourning the past and his mistakes, deciding to focus on the present, instead, and all the new things it'll bring.

And if a few tears slip from his eyes and fall down, well, no one has to know.

* * *

He's been having weird dreams, lately.

He would file them off as nightmares, but Lance is in each and everyone of them, so he can't bring himself to. He dreams of Lance laying across his lap, their fingers intertwined as the other hums a little tune while the sound of waves echo in the distance. His eyes are closed and he looks at peace, the sun's rays illuminating his tan skin and the flowers in his hair as Keith runs his fingers through the silky tresses, feeling happier than he can ever remember being.

In his dream, Lance opens his eyes and mouths words he can't hear, a sorrowful smile etched on his features as he caresses Keith's cheek. His eyes are filled with affection and longing as they look up at him, a few tears falling from the corner of his eyes and disappearing into his hairline, turning into pinpricks of light that shine bright like glitter.

Lance moves his mouth again, then, but there's still no sound other than the raging ocean behind them. And then he has to watch, horrified, as his loved one begins to dissolve, turning into flower petals and foam, beginning from his legs, then his waist, his chest, arms and finally....

Finally, those eyes he loves so dearly give him a guilty look, glazed over and blurry, before they close completely and the last of him fades, leaving behind a bouquet of flowers and sparkling sand.

The shrill scream that rips itself from his throat is silent, muted over and drowned by the rising crescendo of crashing waves and flowing sand.

He never knows what Lance says.

And he wakes up with a raw throat and wet cheeks and an ache in his chest that burns with every breath, a deep, pulsating pain that seems to come from more than just his heart. And he wonders if Lance's half, the one that's now a part of him, thrumms in pain too at those dreams, if it's really him gazing up at Keith on that peaceful beach, and if he, too, cries when they have to part ways, seemingly so close, but always out of reach.

Deep down, he knows they are just dreams, and that they mean _nothing_.

But he wants to believe they are signs, that meeting so many people he knew one after another in the same place is no coincidence, that it's all building up to something else, something bigger. He fears what that may be, but if it's going to lead him back to Lance, he'll take it, no matter what, sleepless nights and all.

Shiro seems to notice that something's wrong with him at some point, though, and he keeps pestering him until he spills the beans, and he does. He talks about his loved ones always leaving, about being afraid to grow close to people in case they abandon him, about self-imposed isolation and walls erected on purpose to keep himself safe, away from the heartache.

And Shiro doesn't judge him or pity him, he gives him advice, lends a helping hand, tells him to talk to him or Matt whenever he's feeling bad, gives him some hand-to-hand drills he can run on his own to relieve stress and some medicine for dreamless nights.

He is really grateful, he really is. Shiro is a constant in his life that grounds him, keeps him in check, forces him to take care of himself. But even so, when the sun goes down and the stars shine bright and he's alone in his shack, he can't make himself take the medicine, because, ultimately, he would do anything to see Lance again.

Even if he's just a fantasy he's made up.

And it's not healthy, he knows this. The bags under his eyes are dark and noticeable, and he looks tired and worn, but he longs to hear the words Lance speaks in his dreams, to hear his melodic voice once again saying his name, to receive a hint, _something_ that tells him the time is near.

So he continues doing it, and wanders the halls of the Garrison like a damned soul, all hunched shoulders and frustrated scowls, glaring at anyone that dares look at him the wrong way. His patience is just running really thin, these days, and he knows Shiro doesn't approve, but he's too tired to care, he knows there's something he's _missing_ , that there's something he's not getting, but he doesn't know what it is, and it frustrates him to no end.

Which is why he's planning on turning the next corner, get some unhealthy food from the canteen, and drop on one of the couches of the common room, hopefully in a sugar induced coma that won't wake him until three days later.

His plans are shot when he hears voices close by, though. He hears his name, and immediately wonders what kind of shitty gossip he's going to have to listen to this time. People seem to hate that he's close with Shiro and Matt, and they seem to like spreading the fake rumor that his skills are fake and every simulation he does is rigged.

They call it _favoritism_.

He calls it _experience_.

All thousand years of it.

" _Woah_ , look, Kogane is top of the list again. You're still second place, new guy." A juvenile voice speaks, the tone filled with awe and wonder, no hint of malice whatsoever.

"Awww man, I thought this time I had it for sure." He doesn't know why, but he imagines a pout going along with that phrase, and it leaves him bewildered and more than a little confused.

"Well, it's still a pretty good ranking if you consider the fact that you've just joined, wich, I meant to ask about that. How come you got here two months already in the semester?" A hum, and feet tapping on the ground, the second voice speaks up again.

"Family problems, and then _flight_ problems, with the plane, I mean. One after another, I kept getting stuck because of accidents or emergencies or whatever, and I couldn't come until _now_." The second guy -he thinks they're guys- sounds exasperated, but there's something in his tone of voice that makes him tremble, and he gazes down at his hands to notice that, indeed, they are shaking slightly, and it scares him.

Because he doesn't _understand_ , and not being in control of his own reactions has never happened to him before, it's almost as if....as if his body is thrumming in anticipation, but that doesn't make _sense_.

"That sucks, man. But at least you're here now, gonna aim for fighter pilot?" There's teasing in the first person's tone, and the other one chuckles before replying.

"You bet. Think I could get Kogane to give me some pointers? I heard he's really good, and the ranking seems to agree." The second voice's tone is cherry and teasing, and it sends a shiver down his spine that leaves him breathless. He doesn't understand _what's happening._

"Eh... I don't know about that. From what I heard, the rumors that run around about him are not...pretty." An inquiring, high-pitched sound.

"How so?" Curiosity, a slight rough edge to the second voice that gives him goosebumps.

"Well, they say he's really closed off, doesn't talk with anyone that's not a teacher, Shiro or Matt, and ignores everyone else. They say he doesn't pay attention to class but still aces all his tests, which lead students to think he's being... _helped_ , if you catch my drift." The first voice doesn't seem to like what it's talking about, his pitch low and unsure.

"Really now?" Skepticism, incredulity.

"Yeah, they are also some more...personal ones going around, like, he's an orphan that lives alone, he's had a hard childhood, he hates being talked about history, he's scarily skilled with a knife, he owns an illegal hoverbike-"

" _Jesus_ , I get it, you can stop now. This just shows that school is the same everywhere, people love to gossip about anything, man. Like, what does it have to do with anything the fact that he's an orphan? That's private and should have been respected." He's astounded when the second guy defends him, no one in this school thought he was worth their worry or friendship, and they definitely never respected his privacy, prying and prying until they had enough rumors to last them a lifetime.

"Well, you're not wrong, I'm just telling you what I heard." First guy says in a placating manner, maybe raising his hands in defeat. It doesn't seem like he likes those rumors either, and it makes him think that maybe hope in humanity is not lost, after all.

"Well, it just seems all bullshit to me. Maybe he doesn't pay attention in class because he already knows the material? Maybe he doesn't talk to people because they are douches and he's shy? And what's all that crap about history? God, I hate some subjects too, you know?" Second guy is suddenly fiercely rebuking people's arguments, and the anger he hears there makes his heart skip a beat, his chest on fire as he listens to every vowel, every word, feeling like there's a magnet on his heart that tugs him closer and closer, beckoning him to round the corner and _see_.

"Yeah, dude, I still loathe _Latin_ , it gives me shudders just thinking about it." A groan of disgust.

"See? And the thing about the knife....well, they are teaching us how to fire guns in here, why are they surprised about that? It's so....stupid." A defeated sigh, the shuffling of feet on the floor tiles. The thump, thump of his own heart pounding in his ears, muffling every other noise but the sound of the people close by.

"Well, when you put it like that...."

"So, yeah, fuck those rumours. I'm gonna find this guy, _Keith_ -" His chest lurches and he has to cover his mouth to stop the gasp that threatens to escape." - and befriend him, and I'm gonna get to know the _real_ him and prove everyone wrong." His ragged breathing echoes loud in the hallway, and he feels tears gathering on the corner of his eyes. He feels like he can't breathe and his legs are shaking so much he fears he'll fall over, he's biting his hand in hopes of swallowing down the whimper that threatens to leave his lips, and his heart is thundering inside his ribcage with such force it's becoming painful.

Because it can't be. _It can't be._

He's said his name, _his name._

And he'd thought he'd forgotten his voice, what his sweet, melodic voice sounded like.

But he'd said his name, and it sounded like _Kessu_ , and he's suddenly back on that beach, holding the one he cherishes while Lance hums a little tune, his fingers caress his cheek and he smiles up at him and when his mouth opens he can hear the words he'd said-

_'I'm sorry'_

"Why, though?" The first voice asks.

_'I know I'm late, but I'll be there soon-'_

"Because I can."

_' -because I promised.'_

Trying in vain to hold out his tears, he clutches his burning chest and rounds the corner, and he feels himself freeze when he glances upon the sight before him, his feet feeling glued to the ground, mouth open in a silent gasp.

Because right there, a few feet ahead of him, stands a boy with tan skin and silky brown hair, waving his hand at the other guy as he's leaving, a wide, beautiful, beaming smile on his face, dimples on the edge of his lips and eyes crinkling in joy.

He can't breathe, he can't move, he doesn't even know if he's able to think.

He doesn't know if this is a dream, but if it is, he doesn't want to wake up.

It'll destroy him.

And then the other is turning away and their eyes meet and- _blue_ , the same baby blue he'd loved so much, the same honest, gorgeous eyes that had looked at him with affection and longing, the same eyes that hold a raging ocean inside them, so deep he feels like he could drown in it.

He's breathless, he's thrumming with emotion, trembling like lightning is running through his veins. And with those eyes looking at him and nothing else but _him_ , his mouth takes over his brain and speaks the words that had been on his mind for a long while now, the words that began everything, the words that will set a new path forward.

"H-hey, you come here often?" It's stupid, it's silly, but it feels right. Like a connection, a bond, to speak the words that created a link between both of them, the ones that Lance used back then to reach out to him when he felt down and defeated by the world, angry at everything and everyone, crying at the unfairness of it all.

It feels like ending a cycle and beginning one anew.

Like tying two loose ends and connecting a thread that had been broken, making him finally reach the other side, the side where brightness and laughter awaited.

A laugh echoes throughout the hallway like chiming bells, slightly rough and interrupted by snorts and breathless giggles, but sounding like the sweetest of melodies to him nonetheless, a sound he's been awaiting to hear again for a thousand years.

He can't stop the tears.

"Oh man, that- that was unexpected. I'm the one that constantly uses that line, but -a giggle- to have it used against me....that was an experience alright." His chuckles warm his heart, and he feels like his chest is pulling him towards the other, the beats so strong and loud he's scared Lance is going to hear them.

He's not ready when Lance walks towards him, a pinched, slightly worried expression on his face as he stretches his hand forward, his brow furrowed as he probably finally notices the -relieved, happy, overjoyed- tears slowly cascading down his jaw and onto his orange jacket.

"Hey, you okay man? Rough day?" He just nods, barely containing his own chuckles, his hands trembling against his chest as he clutches it hard, his knuckles turning white with the pressure, eyes never leaving Lance's own. So _blue_ , like the sky, like the sea, like the scales that had littered his lithe body, like the glimmering lights that had dusted his skin when he died, like his lips when he'd kissed them for the forst and last time.

"I get you, those are the _worst_. But hey - he cheerfully pipes up- yours is about to get better, you know?" He tilts his head as if to ask why, and Lance mischievously grins. " Why, you say? Because _I'm_ here, of course!" Lance smirks and approaches, stretching his hand, the very picture of confidence and calm, exuding charm and charisma from his every pore. Even though the worry never seems to leave his eyes and he keeps glancing at Keith's tears when he thinks he's not looking, biting his lip like he used to do when he was anxious.

"The name's Lance, by the way, and you?" There's a split second when he hesitates in taking Lance's hand, he feels like if he reaches for it and it turns out to be a fake, some kind of hallucination from his worn out mind, he'll _die._

There's not two ways about it.

He'll die from grief and loneliness and longing, wondering how much longer he'll have to wait, a thousand years is already a thousand too many, he can't do this much longer.

He's _scared_.

But his body has a mind of it's own and suddenly his hand is shakily reaching forward, softly wrapping itself around Lance's own, his nimble fingers gripping Keith's wrist with care, the soft skin of his palm feeling real and warm and he holds on for dear life as he runs his thumb over one of his knuckles and- he cries harder.

Abruptly, is like a veil has been lifted, the weight on his shoulders evaporates like it was never there and his airways clear and his vision focuses, the pressure on his head that he didn't notice he had till now disappears and his body feels lighter, floaty, _free_.

His chest no longer hurts like a harpoon has been pierced through, and the searing, burning pain that afflicted him more often than not is fading away the longer he holds onto Lance's hand, as if the part of him that he'd borrowed is finally returning _home_.

His mind is clearing of all unneccessary thoughts, being wiped to a clean slate, and he realizes with a pang of horror that it includes everything he's lived through, the people, the memories, the good, the bad, the sights, the tears, the smiles, the perseverance.....All of his past is being erased, and he knows it's better this way, that he'll be happier like this, without the burden of the long years at his back to weight him down.

But he can't help but mourn their loss. He never held onto the hope that he'd be forgiven, that the fates would be kind enough to free him of the chains that were his past mistakes and allow him a guilt-free life, a second chance.

But they _are_.

The memories are fading fast, slipping through his fingers like mist, and with them come glimpses of the future, a gift that speaks of regrets being set right, of sorrows no longer ever-lasting and mistakes being forgiven. A reward of absolution, a pardon for all the repentance and good deeds over lonely years, for the courage and the _faith_.

In those glimpses, he sees a woman resembling Allura barking orders and yelling at him, he sees her holding hands with Shiro, her hair now short, as they smile at each other, his brother scarred and torn, but happier than he'd ever seen him.

He sees Krolia holding onto him, and Taylor sweeping in to crush them in an embrace, both of them laughing and saying how proud they are of him. He sees Matt reuniting with someone dear to him, allies gathering together for the greater good, sees himself defeating someone that looks similar to Lotor in a deadly battle of swords, Krolia's knife saving his life when he's on the verge of losing.

He sees a sunrise, and his hand holding onto a tanner, softer one. He sees himself smile, a honest, radiant, tender one that he directs at someone to his right, the slight breeze ruffling his hair as he turns, blue eyes crinkling in joy.

He sees Lance sneak his arms around him, smiling shy and soft as he returns the embrace, sees Lance close the distance to press their lips together in a sweet kiss that makes everything feel right and warm, a kiss that grounds him and makes him feel safe and alive and _loved_.

He sees them lean back and giggle, and even though the wind swallows the words Lance says next, he doesn't need to hear them to know what they are, his own lips are mouthing the same thing, carrying with them all the emotion he feels wants to burst out of his chest.

_'I love you.'_

The wind blows and the image blurs and distorts, and he feels like his future self looks at him for a split second, his eyes holding resolve and a determination he seems to want to pass onto him, and he nods, understanding.

_'I won't let you down, I'll make sure this is the end of the path I chose.'_

Then everything fades, he feels like he's floating, and then he blinks and he's back to the present.

Lance is still waiting for him, their hands still clasped together, the smile never leaving his face even though Keith knows he's being weird, overwhelmed by a future he can't wait to happen, a future that means to him more than anything.

"Ah...I'm- my name's....Keith." Lance's face instantly brightens, his other hand coming up to grip their joined ones, excitement and joy coming off him in waves.

"Oh man, so you're the _infamous_ Keith Kogane? Woah, talk about luck, I was just thinking about going to look for you for some advice. But I can see you're having a hard time, wanna go to the artificial gardens? I hear they're really pretty." _Not as pretty as you_ , he thinks. Or he thinks he does, but then Lance stops in his tracks and stammers something intelligible, and his cheeks dust a soft pink and a bashful smile lits up his face and- and Keith's _gone._

 _Again_.

And he knows he'll fall again and again and as many times as they meet after this.

As the last of his memories vanish, the past crumbling away like sand between his fingertips, he feels his clock finally ticking once more, the ice that had been freezing the blood on his veins melting away with the warmth of Lance's smile.

Time moves on again, and they will move forward, _together_.

For all that eternity lasts.

 


End file.
